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Hing's ©all, Compton 



$er Snno£ 

June 1956 

Honorary Editor 
Miss Gillard 

Brenda Keddie 

Literary Editor School Year Editor 

Susan Kilgour Sandra Stewart 

Advertising Editor Art Editor 

Jill Pacaud Gael Eakin 

Sports Editor Photography Editor 

Marian MacDougall Barbara Oliphant 

Form Representatives 

Matric: Saundray Bogert 
VI A: Harriet Schneider V] B: Cynthia Hutchins 

V A: RuthPeverley V B: Ann Smith 

Juniors: Judy Westwater 

Staff Advisers 
Miss Morris Miss MacLennan 

Miss Hughes Miss Dexter 



In this modern world of confusion, man is striving to invent missiles capable 
of devastating whole cities, even nations. All the major powers are trying to 
outwit each other with a faster, perhaps more accurate mechanism. They all feel 
that if their country has great destructive powers at its command that will be 
enough to frighten the enemy and thus maintain peace. 

As man goes on striving in this manner, he is blinded by his projects. He over- 
looks the simple rules of peace which were given him in the beginning — rules, 
which, if we all obeyed them, would lead us along the road of a peaceful existence. 
Little do we realize that the answers to all questions may be found in the com- 
paratively small collection of these rules, summed up or derived from the Sermon 
on the Mount. We, as nations, are continually quarreling over such materialistic 
things as land, trade, or money. Eventually these controversies develop into 
such states of friction that there is a complete division of feeling and we find 
ourselves separated from our fellow men by a wide gulf of misunderstanding. We 
are then in a state of mind from which war may spring. 

Canada is a comparatively young country. We, the youth of today, are re- 
sponsible for Canada's position in the world of tomorrow. Are we going to quarrel 
selfishly over things which are materialistic, or are we going to be strong and 
abide by the rules of honesty, integrity, and truth ? These simple rules are the 
foundation of a strong country and we its citizens are the ones to build that 
foundation. Where do we start to follow these rules ? Where is it that we are shown 
how to mould our characters with the implements provided ? The answer to these 
questions and many others like them is also simple and basic. We are shown the 
right way in school. We are educated so that we shall become worthy citizens 
who are able to play a steadfast part in the welfare of our country. All of us here 
at King's Hall feel especially privileged because we have been shown the right 
way by patient and understanding people — our teachers. They are patient when 
we stubbornly go astray, and constantly encourage us along the right road. Above 
us all is Miss Gillard, continually pointing us to a high goal. She inspires us 
always to remember that "A man's reach must exceed his grasp." She reminds 
us of the simple virtues which are the essence of a strong character. We are also 
thankful for our school motto "Keep Troth" — Be True. Those simple words 
have much meaning. 

For all these things we, the Matric class of 1956, say "Thank you." While we 
send our best wishes to future graduating classes, we ask them also to remember 
to "Keep Troth." 

The members of the Magazine Committee would 
like to convey their thanks to Mrs. Welter for her 
invaluable help in typing many of the articles for 
Per Annos. 



fflite (gtUarb'g letter 

King's Ball 
14th May, 1950. 
My Dear Girls: 

The theme of this letter concerns a matter which is very close to my heart, 
as you will see as you read on, if you do, and I am writing in all earnestness. 

The Gentleman with a Duster who wrote, "The Mirror of Downing Street," 
brings a bitter indictment against the aristocracy in older lands in his generation. 
He says, "Aristocracy has lost its respect for learning, it has grown careless of 
manners, it has abandoned faith in its duty, it is conscious of no solemn 
obligations, it takes no interest in art, it is indifferent to science, it is sick of effort, 
it has surrendered glady and gratefully to the materialism of plutocracy." 

Of course we all realize that the above statement is too sweeping to be fair, 
still it should be a warning to us all. While it is true that in our comparatively 
new country we have no aristocracy of birth, we should have, and could have, 
an aristocracy of breeding and culture. But have we? And if not, why not? Is 
not because the so-called privileged class is shirking its responsibilities in refusing 
to face up to the fact that privilege carries with it great responsibility ? 

You all belong to that privileged group, and that is why I am continually 
trying to impress upon you the necessity of having firm standards. The standards 
set by those who have not had your advantages are not good enough for you. You 
have no right to be satisfied to slide down to their level; you should set the tone. 
Because you have had advantages which many others have not had, your 
standards of Morals, Culture, Manners, Dignity, Speech, and Posture should 
be superior, as should your taste in Music, Art and Reading. In the case of so 
many you are willing to follow the lowest — it requires less effort — and what 
is the result? Many of you could not care less whether you learn anything :there 
is little love of learning for its own sake, — in fact in some classes, a girl who is 
ambitious and keen, is made to feel she is abnormal — . Hour after hour, day 
after day, you are throwing away opportunities which less fortunate people 
than you have starved and suffered to obtain. Many of you are not interested 
in good Music; you care little for the beautiful in Literature, and never voluntarily 
read anything but the funnies, mystery-stories and magazines, often of the cheapest 
kind; your manners are good, but only when things are going your way, which 
is no real test of manners; your speech is often common, your posture slovenly, 
because you do not care: Is that facing up to your responsibilities? Is that 
attitude helping to fit you to take your rightful place in the world later? With 
that attitude you are taking from the world more than you are giving, which 
is dishonest. A true gentleman, or gentlewoman (forgive my Mid-Victorian 
term) always tries to put into life a little more than he takes out, and is loyal 
only to the finest. 

Upon reading this over it sounds rather scathing. I do not mean it to lie, 
but I do want you to believe that I am in deadly earnest. Some of you are about 
to go out into the world. Do not let the materialism of this age cause you to 
lower your standards. Keep always in your mind the line from Browning's "Andrea 
del Sarto," and you will be in no danger of evading your responsibilities. 

"Ah, but, a man's reach must exceed his grasp, 
Or what's a Heaven for?" 

God Bless you all, 
Yours affectionately, 




^eab (girl 

Barbara Kerb— "Kerr" Rideau 

Toronto, Ontario. L952-56 

"If brains were music, she'd be a brass band" 

Favourite Expression: — "Do you hear voices?" 

Pastime: — Toasting marshmallows by candle-light. 

Activities: — Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; Library 

Committee; Form Captain VI A. 
Teams:— Basketball, School; Soccer, House; Volleyball, House. 

^eab #irl'g Report 

In most Head Girls' reports that I have read the 
school year is summed up briefly — the interest and 
good sportsmanship exhibited in the soccer, basket- 
ball, tennis and various other sports; the generally 
co-operative attitude of the girls throughout the 
year; and the fun had at plays, dances, and so on. 

While all this is true, I should like to say a bit 
more about what the opportunity of an education 
at King's Hall means. First of all, any girl who is 
able to attend a boarding school such as King's 
Hall is indeed fortunate. I know that as some girls 
are reading this they may perhaps scoff, but if they 
stop and seriously think if over I am sure (hey will 
agree with me. Here at Compton, although math- 
ematics, languages, history and oilier subjects are 
taught, it is not these things we learn thai are of 
the utmost importance. Our ability to gel along 
with other people is increased; life-long friendships 
are formed; a sense of duty and responsibility is 
instilled in us. To borrow a quotation from Miss 
Gillard, as "A bridge is only as strong as its weak- 
est span," a country is only as strong as its weakest 
people. At K.H.C. we are trained to be I he future 
citizens, not only of Canada, but of other countries 
throughout the world. It is up to us to maintain 
and hold higher the already high standards of con- 
duct and life that have been set for us, if Canada is 

to have the future that is already shining brightly 
for her when affairs fall into the hands of us, her 
future citizens. 

This is not all we gain from King's Hall, this 
high standard to maintain; we also store up mem- 
ories to look back on with pleasure as we grow older. 
Can we ever forget sitting on Windy in the summer 
term, watching the red-tinted countryside as the 
sun slowly sinks; laughing when we see how silly 
everyone looks crying at a Saturday night movie; 
the shouting and excitement for our House to come 
first in House Games; Miss Gillard reading "The 
Christmas Carol" as the lights on the Christmas 
tree glow and the scent of spruce needles fills the 
air — all these and the everyday little things that, 
are a part of school life? 

To the Head Girl of 1950-57 and to all future 
Head Girls I should like to wish the very best of 
luck and to offer a bit of advice. Undoubtedly there 
will lie times when you wonder why you ever had 
such a job, but then a, smile at a, trying moment, the 
feeling of delight and happiness you get when a 
person who usually has order marks has a plus 
total, I he pride in knowing and in working with 
such wonderful people (even if they are a bit trou- 
blesome at times)— all these things will make the 
job worth while. 



Terrill Abbott — "Terry" Head of Macdonald 

Bermuda, B.W.I. 11)51-56 

"Only the good die young — why worry!" 
Ambition: — To travel around the world. 
Probable Destination: — Taking a Bermuda buggy-ride. 
Activities: — Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; Library 

Teams: — Soccer, School Junior; Basketball, House; Volleyball, House. 

Susan Ward — "Folge" Prefect on Macdonald 

Brookfield Centre, Connecticut, U.S.A. 11)47-56 

"She was not only a chip off the old block, but the old block itself." 
Ambition: — To be a doctor. 
Pet Aversion: — Short men. 
Activities: — Choir; Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; 

Library Committee; Form Captain III A; Crucifer. 
Teams: — Basketball, School; Soccer, School Junior; Volleyball, House. 



Claire Hudson 

Moncton, New Brunswick 

"A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance." 
Ambition: — Physiotherapy. 
Prototype: — The wounded soldier. 

Activities: — Choir; Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club. 
Teams: — Basketball, School: Soccer, House; Volleyball, House. 

Jane Douglas Lane — "Dougie" Prefect on Montcalm 

Pointe Claire, Quebec. 1952-56 

"Without music life would be a mistake." 

Favourite Expression: — "There's going to be a fire drill to-night!" 

Pastime: — Talking to 'Cindy.' 

Activities: — Choir; Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; 

Library Committee; Sports Captain VI A. 
Teams: — Basketball, School Junior; Soccer, House; Volleyball, House. 

Eve Smith — "Spider" Head of Rideau 

Ottawa, Ontario. 1951-56 

"Her voice was ever soft, gentle and low, 
An excellent thing in woman." 
Favourite Expression: — O.K. ? 
Prototype: — Daddy Long-legs. 
Activities: — Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; Dramatics; 

Library Committee; Form Captain V B, V A, VI B. 
Teams: — Basketball, School Junior; Soccer, School Junior; Volleyball, 


Patricia Jackson — "Pat" Prefect on Rideau 

Town of Mount Royal, Quebec. 1954-56 

"The best of men ever loved repose." 
Favourite Expression: — "Bunkum!" 
Pastime: — Keeping the 'Royal Mail' occupied. 
Activities: — Choir; Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; 

Library Committee; Dramatics. 
Teams: — Volleyball, House; Soccer, Form; Basketball, Form. 


Sports Captain 

Marian MacDougall— "Mac" Rideau 

Saraguay, Quebec. 1954-56 

"Nothing great can be achieved without, enthusiasm." 
Favourite Expression: — "What's the score?" 
Ambition: — Wimbledon tennis finals. 
Pet Aversion: — Spelling. 
Activities: — Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; Dramatics: 

Library Committee; Sports Captain VI A. 
Teams:— Soccer, House; Basketball, House; Volleyball, House. 

Eesitience Captains 

Shirley Eakin — "Shirt" Montcalm 

Westmount, Quebec. 1950-56 

"She put her brain into neutral and let her tongue idle on." 
Favourite Expression: — "Well no — I'm not overly smitten." 
Favourite Pastime: — Varies with the seasons. 

Activities: — Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; Dramatics. 
Teams: — Basketball, School Junior; Soccer, School; Volleyball, House. 

Suzanne Schneider — "Bessie." Montcalm 

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, U.S.A. 1953-56 

"My style and my sentiments are MY OWN, purely original." 
Favourite Expression: — "What time is it?" 
Pastime: — Scribbling. 
Activities: — Choir; Literature Club; Glee Club: Current Events Club; 

Library Committee; Public Speaking; Dramatics. 
Teams: — Soccer, House; Basketball, House: Volleyball, House. 

Jform Captains 



AIika Ignatieff — "Meek" 
Home, Iialy. 

"Open my heart and you will see 
Graved inside of it 'Italy'." 
Prototype:— The wreck of the Hesperus. 
Pastime: — Paving the mad to tidiness. 
Activities:— Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; Library 

Committee; Arts Matric Form Captain. 
Teams: -Soccer, House; Volleyball, House. 


Brenda Keddie "Kenda" 

Montreal, Quebec. 

"Do as I say ,no( as I do." 

Ambition:— To be a 'Lab Technician.' 

Probable Destination : — Being a 'Lab Specimen.' 

Activities:— Choir; Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; 
Library ( ommittee; Form Captain VI A and Science Matric; Magazine 
Ldilor. ° 

Teams:- Basketball, House; Soccer, House; Volleyball, House. 

Matric cartoons by Gael Eakin 



Susan Blaylock — "Fishie" Macdonald 

lie Bizard, Quebec. L954-56 

"Always and forever most divinely in trouble." 
Favourite Expression: — "1 get the general gist." 
Pet Aversion: — People who call her the class clown. 
Activities: — Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; Library 

Teams: — Soccer, House; Volleyball, House. 

Saundray Bo(;krt — "Beachy" Macdonald 

Magog, Quebec. 1950-56 

"Born with a gift of laughter and a sense thai the world is mad." 

Favourite. Expression: — "Who's for a crisis?!" 

Pastime: — Depends on the environment. 

Activities: — Choir; Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; 
Library Committee; Form Captain IV A; Ballet; Magazine Represent- 
ative VI B Matric; Dramatics. 

Teams: — Soccer, School Junior; Tennis, House; Soccer, House; Bas- 
ketball, House; Volleyball, House. 

Juliana de Kuyper — "Julc" Macdonald 

Westmount, Quebec. 1952-56 

"Why do to-day what you can put off till to-morow ?" 
Favourite Expression: — "Go ahead — see if I care!" 
Prototype: — Golden Girl. 
Activities: — Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; Library 

Committee; Ballet. 
Teams: — Soccer, House; Basketball, House; Volleyball, House. 




__— X _ — s. 

Gael Eakin — "Poobie" Riclcau 

Westmount, Quebec. 11)54-56 

"A mighty spirit fills that little frame." 
Pet Aversion: — People who use her head as a leaning post. 
Pastime: — Schussing the "Bump." 
Activities: — Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; Library 

Committee; Magazine Art Editor; Public Speaking. 
Teams: — Tennis, House; Soccer, House; Volleyball, House; Basketball, 


Barbara Fellowes — "Babbie" Macdonald 

Westmount, Quebec. 1054-56 

"Oh, how full of briars is this working day world." 
Pastime: — Finding time. 
Ambition: — To be an architect. 
Pet Aversion: — Letterless days. 
Activities: — Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; Library 

Teams: — Soccer, House; Volleyball, House. 

Robin FitzGerald — "Filz" Rideau 

Pointe Claire, Quebec. 1953-56 

"A fit of laughter which has been indulged to excess almost always 
produces a violent reaction." 
Pastime: — Singing. 
Activities: — Choir; Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; 

Library Committee; Public Speaking. 
Teams: — Basketball, School Junior; Soccer, House; Volleyball, House. 









Susan Kilgour — "Sue" Macdonald 

Beauharnois, Quebec 1951-56 

"Anything for a quiet life." 

Favourite Expression: — "I wish I had a horse." 

Pet Aversion: — Sewing Machines. 

Activities:— Literature Club: Glee Club; Current Events Club; Library 

Committee; Literary Editor of Magazine. 
Teams:— Volleyball, Form. 

Judy Macdonald — "Peanut" Macdonald 

Stamford, Connecticut, U.S.A. 1952-56 

"I believe in no man's opinions, I have some of my own." 
Ambition: -Journalism. 
Probable Destination: — It's in the book. 
Activities:-— Literature Club; Current Events Club; Library Committee; 

Dramatics; Public Speaking. 
Teams: — Basketball, House; Volleyball, House; Soccer, Form. 


Judy McColm Rideau 

Sillery, Quebec. 1954-56 

"Innocence is bliss." 
Ambition: — Singing on Broadway. 
Probable Destination: — Singing in the rain. 
Activities: — Choir; Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; 

Library Committee. 
Teams:— Soccer, House; Basketball, House; Volleyball, House; Soccer, 


UtSM ~ ?r„-*i 







Barbara Oliphant— "Oli" Macdonald 

Hudson Heights, Quebec. 1950-56 

"Silence is golden; but she never cared for riches anyway." 
Favourite Expression:— "Well, what's next on the agenda?" 
Pet Aversion: — Screaming women. 
Activities:— Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; Librarv 

Committee; Form Captain IV A. 
Teams:— Soccer, House; Basketball, House; Volleyball House 


Jill Pacaud 
Magog, Quebec. 

"It happens only once in a life time." 
Pet Aversion:— People who avoid questions. 
Pastime: —Eating. 
Activities: Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; Magazine 

Advertising Manager; Dramatics. 
Teams- Basketball, School; Soccer, School; Volleyball, House. 

Penelope Parsons — "Penny" ., , , 

Little Compton, Rhode Island. So 56 

"Sugar and Spice, Fire and Ice, that's what she is made of." 
Favourite Expression: "How exah-tic!" 
Pastime: ( ioing ape over Wilbur de Paris' 

Com , ,'nii,e, I - l Vl' a,U,V ^ ^ ^ Currcnt EveQtS Club ^ Li ^ry 
T,w t,! f""' Representative IV A; Ballet; Form Captain IV A 
Learns.— boccer, House; Volleyball, House. 




Sandra Stewart — "Mouse" Macdonald 

Montreal, Quebec. 1948-56 

"Where none admires 'tis useless to excell. 
Where none are beaux 'tis vain to be a belle." 
Favourite Expression: — "This is the Bitter . . . . " 
Pastime: — Sightseeing in a Triumph. 
Activities: — Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; Library 

Committee; Magazine Committee; Ballet; Dramatics. 
Teams: — Soccer, House; Basketball, House; Volleyball, House. 

Suzanne Thkosby — "Sue" Rideau 

Lancaster, Ontario. 1952-56 

"Everything I love is either illegal, immoral, or fattening." 
Favourite Expression: — "Jill, what shall I tell him?" 
Pet Aversion: — Not getting any mail. 
Activities: — Choir; Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; 

Library Committee. 
Teams: — Soccer, House; Volleyball, House. 

Luciana Wagner — "Luce" Macdonald 

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, U.S.A. 1954-56 

"Five minutes! Zounds! I have been five minutes too late all 

my life-time!" 

Favourite Expression: — "That's just typical!" 

Pet Aversion: — Being anywhere ahead of time. 

Activities: — Literature Club; Glee Club; Current Events Club; Library 

Committee: Dramatics. 
Teams: — Basketball, School Junior; Soccer, House; Volleyball, House. 

£kf)ool Calenbar 


School Opened Sept. 14 

Matric Entertainment Oct. 1 

Thanksgiving Weekend Oct. 8-9 

Tea Dance at Bishop's Oct. 10 

Recital by Wilson MacDonald Oct. 14 

Concert by Paul de Marky Oct. 16 

Talk by Mrs. Dole about Katherine 

Gibbs Oct. 21 

Prefects appointed Oct. 25 

Talk by Mrs. Carrington Oct. 27 

Hallowe'en supper and party Oct. 28 

Historical monologues by 

Mrs. McKellar Oct, 30 

Armistice Day Service Nov. 1 1 

Christmas Exams Dec. 3-10 

Miss Gillard's Birthday Party Dec. 4 

Carol Service and Nativity Play Dec. 11 

Christmas Holidays Dec. 15 — Jan. 10 


Public Speaking — Prep Hall Ian. 18 

U.B.C. Ice Carnival Feb. 2 

"My Three Angels" at B.C.S Feb. 8 

Governor General's Holiday Mar. 2 

Red Cross Supper Mar. 25 

Easter Holidays Mar. 27— April 11 


"The Happy Time" at U.B.C Apr. 13 

Concert by Miss A. Macdonald Apr. 22 

Monologue by Susan Fletcher for 

the "Save the Children" fund Apr. 29 

"H.M.S. Pinafore" by V A May 6 

Confirmation May 12 

"Northanger Abbey" by VI A May 13 

Finals of Dominion Drama Festival. . . .May 1-4-1 

24th of May holiday May 19-21 

Closing Church Service June 7 

Gym Demonstration & Closing 

Exercises June 8 




This year's Maine entertainment was a great suc- 
eess. The Matrics had three weeks to plan, arrange 
and produce their excellent entertainment. At eight 
o'clock Saturday night the first of November, every- 
one was waiting in the Prep Hall for the curtain to 
rise and "K.H.C. Network — Channel 56" to he 
presented. The programme commenced with a song 
called "The Compton Touch" sung by the Matric 
Class. This song recalled all the happy memories, 
experiences and happenings that occur to a Comp- 
ton girl. Then the audience saw an excellent imi- 
tation of an ancient silent movie called "Forty 
Years Back." Barbara Kerr was the lady love 
with four suitors. "3000 Plus" illustrated that the 
urge to dance has known no boundary of time or 
place. The scenery, costumes and lighting gave the 
scene an eery and dramatic atmosphere. The act- 
resses danced with perfection and with great ex- 
pression. A Drama was next on the programme. It 
had a very touching dialogue and was carefully 
interpreted by the actresses. This original playlet 
was written by Sue Kilgour. 

Then came the great ".$04,000 Question." Miss 
Gillard was the contestant. "How many good girls 
are there in the Matric Class?" Miss Gillard had 
no difficulty in answering that question. "Exactly 
twenty-seven." There was a nostalgic finale with 
the song "Someday We Will Remember K.H.C." 

Saundray Bogert was the director and we all 
think she did an excellent job. Thank you very 
much, Matrics of '50 for such a happy memory of 
your "Matric Entertainment." 

Lucy Doucet, VI A. 


On October 14, we were fortunate enough to 
have Wilson MacDonald, the well-known Canadian 
poet, visit King's Hall. In the afternoon Mr. 
MacDonald spoke to us about Shakespeare, and 
read parts of a book he had recently completed on 
Shakespeare. He mentioned particularly the son- 
nets, which are so often overshadowed by the plays. 
We also heard a few facts about the Shakespeare- 
Marlowe controversy which was so prominent in the 
news at that time. In the evening Mr. MacDonald 
read us some of his own poems, including "The 
Song of the Ski," which we all know and love. He 
also sang some beautiful monastic chants which he 
had written himself, and accompanied himself on 
the piano. We all found Mr. MacDonald's visit 
both helpful and enjoyable, and were very sorry 
when the time came for it to end. 

Susan Kilgour, Matric. 


On October 10, we had the privilege of having 
as a guest pianist, Paul de Marky. Among his 
selections were compositions by Chopin, De Falla, 
and Leucona. Leucona's "Andalucia" was so well 
liked thai Mr. de Marky obligingly played it for 
us a second time. We also had the pleasure of hear- 
ing two of Mr. de Marky's own compositions, 
"Scherzo" and "Desert Shadows"— the latter by 
request. Altogether the evening was very enjoy- 
able. We should all like to thank Mr. de Marky, 
and hope for another visit soon. 

Jane Douglas Lane. 


The great day finally arrived and girls of all sizes 
bedecked with baubles, bangles, and beads flocked 
off the buses at B.C.S. After a lew shy "hellos" the 
boys conducted us to their gymnasium, where the 
band was already playing. After hundreds of fox- 
trots, rumbas, and Charlestons we were conducted 
to the spacious dining room. Once there we eagerly 
consumed cup cakes and punch. 

Far too soon seven-thirty arrived and with hasty 
"good-byes" we scrambled onto the waiting buses. 
Another tea, fiance was over. We should like to 
thank Mr. Class and the Bishop's students for a 
very enjoyable afternoon. 


( )n the twenty-first of ( )ctober, Mrs. Dole from the 
Boston branch of the Katherine Cibbs Secretarial 
School came to King's Hall and gave a talk on the 
advantages of secretarial training both in the home 
and in professional fields. She told us about the 
placement services available to Katherine Cibbs 
graduates and the excellent positions open to all 
who have studied there. Mrs. Dole's talk was par- 
ticularly helpful to those who intend to take a busi- 
ness course after leaving school. We very much 
appreciate the fact that Katherine Cibbs sends us 
a representative each year. 

Susanne Schneider, Matric. 




Harvest Thanksgiving is the Sunday when God's 
House is filled with ripened vegetables, plump fruit, 
autumn leaves, and flowers. In our Compton church 
it was celebrated on October 2nd. The girls had 
decorated the church beautifully. On the ledge 
below the stained glass windows nestled pyramids 
of fruit, boughs covered with pine needles, and 
many flowers both large and small. They were all 
bathed in the sunlight seeping through the windows. 
Every other pew boasted a whisp of spruce and 
a few bright berries clinging to its outer side. Pump- 
kins and carrots, turnips and peppers were all intri- 
cately clustered about the chancel steps, and on 
the altar were arranged two bowls of leaves. Flowers 
encircled the baptismal font, while scarlet berries 
tumbled over each other around every candlestick. 

As the organ filled the church with music the 
voices of the girls mingled with those of the regular 
congregation in the familiar and well-loved Thanks- 
giving hymns. Yes, this was God's House on Har- 
vest Thanksgiving, beautiful in its simplicity and 
perhaps brushed by the very wings of His angels. 

Susan Blackburn, VI A. 


During the Christmas term we were all pleasant- 
ly surprised by a visit from Mrs Carrington. She 
told us, among other things, all about the work the 
Girls' Auxiliary is doing for the Anglican Church 
in Canada. She also showed us the original flag 
made by the Girls' Auxiliary. She mentioned, too, 
that one of our Old Girls, Olivia Rorke, was a 
delegate to the G.A. conference held in Ontario 
during the summer of 1954. 

One of the things that Mrs. Carrington stressed 
most of all was that Canada needed good leaders 
for the future, and that we must all try to develop 
leadership qualities for the service of our country. 

These are only a few of the many interesting 
topics that Mrs. Carrington discussed. After her 
talk she very kindly answered the numerous quest- 
ions we asked her. Elizabeth Napier, VI A. 


It is for everyone I'm speaking, I know, when 
I say how glad we were to welcome Mrs. MeKellar 
back again. Her programme this year was on Oc- 
tober 30. We could not fail to enjoy her delightful 
and at the same time educational dramatizations 
of several scenes from Canadian history. We loved 
the variety of her programme, which ranged from 
a recitation of "Lil' Batiste" to a chapter from 
the career of the famous Madame de la Tour. 

Judy Macdonald, Matric. 


Hallowe'en was here at last. As we trooped down 
to the dining-room we wondered what mysterious 
surprise was in store for us. VIB had done a mar- 
vellous job decorating the dining-room. The ghostly 
decorations created an eerie atmosphere. Flick- 
ering Jack-o-Lanterns cast an evil glow over a 
sumptuous feast prepared by Mr. Burt. After 
supper we rushed upstairs, donned our costumes 
and hurried to the gym. The parade began. The 
Staff brought down the house with their portrayal 
of a Compton firedrill. The Matrics, dressed as Davy 
Crocket and his Indian friends, whooped around 
the gym to win first prize. The VA's, dressed as 
C Chinese coolies leading a ferocious dragon, walked 
off with second prize. The two smallest classes of 
the school, IVB and IVA dressed as Winken, 
Blinken and Nod and the moon and the seven stars, 
each won a prize. Although VIB, VIA, and VB 
did not win prizes, their costumes were very effec- 
tive. After the judging and a couple of Scottish reels 
and Koki-Oki led by Miss Ramsay, a happy group 
of tired girls slowly made their way to bed after 
a very successful evening. 

Heather Dewar, VI B. 


The halls were gaily decked with streamers of 
navy, light blue, and gold. A long row of tables 
set appetizingly with dainties stretched from the 
front half to the correction room. Two large cakes, 
iced in the school colours and bedecked with cand- 
les, stood near the head of the table. Strains of 
"Forty Years On" played from the loudspeaker as 
the guests, Staff, and girls eagerly awaited the 
arrival of the honoured guest. 

At last she appeared — our beloved Miss Gillard, 
celebrating the twenty-sixth birthday she has had 
here, as Head Mistress of King's Hall. How happy 
and proud we all were as we watched her take the 
seat of honour. 

The meal that night was in itself something 
.special — all sorts of delicious foods, topped by a 
piece of birthday cake — real fruit cake. After supper 
we all sang "Happy Birthday" joyfully as Shireen 
Finch, the youngest girl in the school, presented 
Miss Gillard with a silver candelabrum, a gift 
which tried to express, though inadequately, our 
love and most sincere thanks to one who has done 
so very much for us all. This evening of December 
4th, 1955, was one long to be remembered and 
treasured by everyone. 

Barbara Kerr, Matric. 




The nearness of Christmas is never felt until the 
pungent smell of spruce and the sound of gay 
French carols fill the air. These are first heard from 
the classrooms where in French class the pronun- 
ciation is practised. 

"The capital of British Columbia is Vic — " 
"Petit Noel avec mystere — " 
"The capital of British Columbia i — " 
"Venu du ciel descend vers nous — " 

Yes, carols really announce that Christmas is 
here. As June is brought in by lilacs so Christmas 
is brought in by the spruce tree. Getting it in is 
quite a job too, as it's at least twice the width of 
any doorway. 

Finally the glorious night of the Carol Service 
and the Christmas party arrived, always the 
last Sunday of term. Exam., classes, books — 
all these "horrors" were done with for at least three 
weeks. After supper on December 11th we went 
to the Prep. Hall where a Nativity play was put 
on under Miss Hewson's direction. This year every 
girl in the school took part, either singing or acting. 
Following the play were the carols. Juniors, V B, 
V A, VI B, VI A, Matrics. and Staff took their turns 
on the stage under the eyes of an audience too bliss- 
fully happy to be critical. The programme ended 
with the Choir's singing of "The Little Road to 
Bethlehem," "Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming" and 
"In Winter Cold." Their extremely beautiful har- 
mony was a fitting conclusion. 

Then the Christmas party ! Santa and his helpers 
were a puzzle. Who's Who? That was the question. 
The presents were brought out and with each one 
a verse about the Staff who was to receive it. These 
were fun, and the Staff turned such pretty shades 
of red! Mercifully attention was brought back to 
Santa, (the girls discovered that he was "Beachy") 
who was rapidly losing his paunch, his pants, and 
his dignity. All of these were collected, however, 
and pinned or just held until the presentation of 
the "chef d'oeuvre," the silver candelabrum, Miss 
Gillard's present. This was to match the one we 
had given her on her birthday. After Miss Gillard's 
gracious and heart-warming thanks Santa made 
his glorious exit, leaving behind him a crowd of 
exhausted girls, who flocked to bed like angels. To 
go to sleep? Are you crazy? They're going home 
this week! 

Judith Perron, VI A. 


The evening of February 9th, when we attended 
the ice-carnival put on by U.B.C. in Sherbrooke,was 
a very enjoyable one as I am sure every King's 
Hall girl will agree. The performers were mainly 
U.B.C. students assisted by a few professionals. 

The programme opened with a series of perfor- 
mances by young ladies who showed their skill in 
many twirls and twists and excellent balancing. 
There were also a few intervals of laughter when the 
comedian did his part. For added interest a young 
man dressed like a Texan did amazing feats such 
as jumping over barrels. The chorus line or "Kick 
line" consisted entirely of U.B.C. students, well- 
named the "U.B.C. Bomberettes." The professional 
star, Dick Nutter, was wonderful, to put it mildly! 
Words can hardly express the enjoyment we got 
from his act. 

The evening at the stadium wound up with a 
bang when we had a rip-roaring game of hockey 
between U.B.C. and Sherbrooke. Some of the girls 
had never seen an ice hockey game before (except on 
Television!) and it was quite an experience for 
them, and an experience for all of us too, I may 
add. Imagine our disappointment when we had 
to leave at the end of the first period, but as we all 
realised it was very late and no one ought to have 
too much of a good thing. Judy Gruchy, VI A. 


"My Three Angels," put on by B.C.S. would 
have been a favourite with all who like a good play. 
The actors did full credit to the very amusing and 
clever plot and dialogue. The audience spent most 
of the time in a state of uproarious laughter, the 
object of the laughter usually being the "three 
angels" themselves or their pet snake, Adolf. The 
more serious parts of the play were equally well 
presented. All of us who were fortunate enough 
to attend had a most enjoyable evening. 

Harriet Schneider VI A. 


^ On November 11th, chartered buses took the 
School out to U.B.C. to see three one-act comedies 
presented by the students. These were "The Man 
in the Bowler Hat," "Overlaid" and "Women Do 
Things Like that," Lighting, scenery and acting 
were outstandingly good. We all enjoyed the 
evening very much. 

Then on April 13th, we saw the much discussed 
French-Canadian play, "The Happy Time." One 
might have thought the students were professionals, 
their performance was so good. 

Jane Gushing, VI A. 




The annual Red Cross supper, held this year on 
25th March, was again a great success. The evening 
began with a delicious buffet supper, for which we 
wish to thank Mr. Burt. Our thanks to Mrs. Aitken 
too, who added a bright touch to the front hall with 
her decorations of red and white carnations and 
candelabra with white candles upon which tiny red 
crosses were pasted. 

After supper, each Form and the Staff gave Miss 
Gillard their Red Cross contributions. This year 
we made a wider variety of articles — not just the 
usual knitted garments, but dozens of dresses, 
skirts, blouses, stuffed animals and even a few 
scrap-books. There were clothes for adults as well 
as for children. 

We think Miss Keyzer and VA deserve special 
congratulations for their oustanding contribution. 
Not only had they made the usual knitted garments 
but with Miss Dostie's help they made a complete 
outfit for an eight year old and they made literally 
dozens of other clothes which any child would love 
to wear. 

The rest of the school, too, made an excellent 
showing and we are all proud to have produced this 
year one of the largest displays ever. 

Mika Ignatieff 


A Biology Exhibition was held at Bishop's Uni- 
versity on Friday and Saturday, March 16, and 17. 
On Friday a large group of VI B's attended it, and 
on Saturday the VI A's and Matrics. Both groups 
were extremely interested in slides showing the com- 
position of various trees, and in the numerous ex- 
hibits, including the different parts of plants and 
the identification of plants, the production of per- 
fume, examples of osmosis, and the magnification 
of smaller plants and insects. A great many ex- 
periments were shown and carefully explained as, 
for example, the effect of enzymes and light on 
plants and the use of chlorophyll in photo syn- 
thesis. Movies were given throughout the after- 
noon including the beautiful picture, "Natures' 
Half Acre." It might also be added that many 
girls found their way into interesting corners where 
they met "George," the school skeleton, and other 
equally fascinating specimens. The afternoons were 
greatly enjoyed by all the King's Hall girls who 
went, and I am sure everyone profited by the 

Lynne Francis, VI A. 

We are sorry that many interesting events are scheduled for the end of the 
term when Per Annos will have gone to press. 

STOP THE PRESS! King's Hall adopted four children under the Save 
the Children Fund following an excellent performance by Susan Fletcher 
of Montreal, in aid of the S.C.F. 


"Princess Margaret Not Marry—" 
"Anti-Stalin Campaigns Waged by Khruschev — " 
"Cyprus Uprisings Cause World Concern — " 
We are once again grateful to Miss Morris for 
having brought such world-wide events within our 
grasp. For many of us who have no time to read the 
newspapers thoroughly, the Friday evening Senior 
Current Events Club is an essential, without which 
our outlook and our field of knowledge would be 
considerably narrowed. 

VI A and Matric offer their sincere thanks for 
such interesting and enlightening evenings, which 
without Miss Morris's personal touch, would not 
be nearly so enjoyable. 

Terry Abbott, Matric. 


The V A's and VI B's found the Junior Current 
Events Club very entertaining, thanks to Mrs. 
Welter. Everone looked forward to the Thursday 
meetings, in which we discussed world affairs and 
had a few debates. One, for instance, was on the 
abolition of the death penalty in Britian. We also 
heard many recordings of speeches made within 
recent years and of comments on important events. 
One of our favourites was an account of the Queen's 
life from her childhood to her Coronation. This in- 
cluded some of her speeches. We all want to thank 
Mrs. Welter for putting up with us and supplying 
us with so many interesting news items. 

Catherine Harvie, VI B. 




The girls took a keen interest in Public Speaking 
this year. Besides the nine who entered the contest 
held in the Prep Hall, a number of girls made 
short speeches in their own Form rooms. 

The contest was held to choose someone to re- 
present King's Hall in the semi-finals of the St. 
Francis Valley district where a speaker was selected 
to represent the district at the finals in Montreal. 
This Public Speaking contest for girls of high 
school age is sponsored each year by the McGill 
Alumni Society. 

Our representative at the local contest was 
Susanne Schneider. Although she was not chosen 
to go to Montreal, she gave a good account of 
herself, everyone enjoying her humorous speech, 
"Popular People." 


This year the choir seems to have managed quite 
well in spite of the fact that, each week in the second 
term a few people came down with the German 
Measles just before the Sunday service. Thanks to 
those who substituted, however, we have always 
had a full choir. 

The first term was dedicated to practising for 
the annual Christmas service, which is held the 
last week-end of the term. After singing "Lo, How a 
Rose E'er Blooming," "The Little Road to Beth- 
lehem," and other carols, the choir, holding lighted 
candles accompanied the Staff and girls in the 
lounge where we sang carols until the Christmas 
Party began. 

Getting up early on the last Sunday morning of 
the Christmas term and singing carols outside the 
windows, is another thing the girls enjoy very much. 
(I might add that when we come in at seven o'clock 
tired and hungry, there is always an excep- 
tionally good breakfast awaiting) 

Athough we didn't sing in the Sherbrooke choir 
festival as last year, we had the opportunity of 
going to U.B.C. to hear the Kingston Boy's Choir 
which certainly deserves all the credit it 1ms been 

This last paragraph is the space reserved for 
our thanks to a wonderful and patient person who 
drills us through and through every Saturday and 
Sunday morning in the school year. So from all 
the 1956 choir we would like to say 'Thank you, 
Miss Macdonald." 

Diana Fowler, VI A. 


This year as usual all the forms, from IV B to 
VI B take Household Science once a week and as 
usual enjoy the classes very much. On trips through 
the basement people often catch the scent of de- 
licious "delicacies" being cooked, or catch a glimpse 
of the many coloured garments in process of crea- 
tion. Dressing table covers, bibs, knitted hats, 
dresses and skirts are among the articles made this 
year. Many of these things were given to the Red 

The Household Science students wish to thank 
Mademoiselle Dostie for all the extra help she has 
given them and for all her ideas. We hope she will 
be with us for many years to come. 

Elise Menasche, VI B. 


Much of the entertainment at King's Hall this 
year was provided by the Matrics, VIA and VA 
Glee Clubs under the able direction of Miss Hewson. 
The result of Miss Hewson's steady work with the 
Glee Club was heard at the Christmas Pageant and 
at a musical programme presented during the Easter 
term called "Folk Tunes from Some Nations." 
Both programmes showed evidence of skilful train- 
ing and persistent practising. 

Many thanks go to Miss Hewson and the mem- 
bers of the Glee Club for making such enjoyable 
entertainment possible. 

Harriet W. Schneider, VI A. 


This has been a very successful year for the 
library of King's Hall owing to the hard work and 
co-operation of the library committee. At the 
beginning of the year the library committee had 
two capable heads, Terry Abbott and Suzanne 
Schneider. With their duties as Prefects, however, 
these »iiis were unable to carry on and we were 
appointed as co-heads to fill their places. 

We are extremely proud of the fact that the 
catalogue of hooks has finally been completed. 
However, there are always old books that need to 
be mended. This task was done marvellously by 
the library committee and others, both in super- 
vised mending bees and voluntarily. 

We would like to wish next year's library com- 
mittee Head good luck and we hope that she will 
have just as responsible a library committee to 
work with as we had. 

Barbara Fellowes 
Robin FitzGerald. 



WATER COLOUR— Gill Bastian, VI B 


In the Art classes this year a wide variety of 
activities has been introduced to the girls by Miss 
Dexter. Abstract, mechanical, figure, and still life 
drawings and paintings have been produced in great 
numbers; these will make a very interesting exhi- 
bition in June. 

The VIA's have worked fitfully and a little fran- 
tically at scenery for the Formal. Unfortunately 
the Formal has had to be cancelled because of var- 
ious germs, but it was fun planning the decorations. 
The VIB's and VIA's have done some excellent 
scenery for their plays. The sketches were of course 
done by Miss Dexter and much of her spare time 
was given to supervising the work. 

The 'Per Annos' poster contest had many entries 
and several were given honourable mention; the 
prize winner was Gail Davis, whose cartoon of a 
giant size King's Hall girl was most impressive. 

Some new ideas have been introduced into the 
regular classes which really should be mentioned, 
'potato printing' and 'name patterns.' Potato prints 
are made by carving the pattern on a slice of potato 
and then stamping it on a colourful piece of paper. 
The title 'name pattern' is self-explanatory. 



DRY BRUSH— Linda Crier, VI A 

We wish to thank Miss Dexter not only for mak- 
ing our Art Classes so interesting but also for the 
time and help she has given to make all our special 
occasions so successful. Judy Perron, VI A. 




Sports this year have, as always, played an 
important role in our life here at King's Hall. Al- 
though we have been continually hampered 
throughout the year by contagious diseases which 
have prevented us from participating in the usual 
inter-school matches, the tremendous enthusiasm 
displayed by everyone in September has never 

In soccer, basketball, and volleyball the different 
Forms and Houses struggled day after day to 
defeat each other, with every player always trying 
her very hardest, hoping maybe to earn a place on 
the school teams (which never materialized, for no 
one could defeat the measles). 

When we arrived back after Christmas the snow 
lay deep around us and none of us needed much 
encouragement before we brought out our skis and 
skates, for the shiny, smooth rink and the snow- 
covered hills were there beckoning to us. We were 
especially lucky again to be able to ski at 
and I think almost everyone's skiing has improved 
greatly. In skating most of the school spent hours 
rehearsing and planning for an Ice Carnival but 
once again we are sorry to say that this was post- 
poned so long on account of the measles that the 
ice melted before it could be put on. 

On bad days when the weather drove us inside, we 
turned ourselves to House Games in the gym. There 
the competition was keener than ever as everyone 

strove to bring her House closer to the coveted 
Sports Shield awarded each June to the House 
which gained the most points in athletics during 
the year. 

As the sun came out again and summer approach- 
ed, the baseball bats and tennis racquets appeared; 
however, we still seemed to be struck by bad luck, 
for the measles continued and the lovely swimming 
pool could not be used. 

The individual sports this year have also flourish- 
ed, with tennis and badminton hitting the head- 
lines. In both of these tournaments we had extreme- 
ly large turnouts and the winners certainly deserve 
a great deal of praise, for each match was close 
and well fought. Ping-pong also proved popular 
and in the two Junior tournaments Heather 
Black and Janice Byers emerged the champions. 

And so 1956 draws to a close, taking with it the 
many sorrows and disappointments as well as the 
triumphs and cheers which it has brought and I find 
myself sadly about to say good-bye, but before I 
go T should like, on behalf of the school, to thank 
Miss Ainslie, Miss Keyzer and all those who have 
given up their spare, time to make this sports year 
so successful. For myself I would like to thank 
everyone of you for your wonderful co-operation, 
enthusiasm and good sportsmanship throughout 
the year and to wish you all the very best of luck 
next year and in the years to come. 

Marian MacDougall, Sports Captain. 




There was keen enthusiasm for soccer this year 
and we enjoyed having the extra field so that every- 
one could play. On account of poor weather last 
autumn and also illness at Stanstead and Bishop's 
we could not play our usual matches. Miss Keyzer 
and Mr. Roberts, however, gave us many enjoyable 
hours while drilling us and showing us how to play 
a more skilled game. This practice will be a great 
advantage to next year's team. We did have one 
match — with a group of Old Girls who came back 
and played the Matrics. The Old Girls won. There 
was a highly competitive spirit and good team- 
work shown in all the inter-Form games. We are 
all looking forward to a good season next year. 

Frances Harley, VI A. 


To many of us the first term, although the long- 
est, is the most enjoyable. One of the things that 
makes it so is volleyball. The volleyball season 
opened this year with several Form games and then 
developed into the "Montrealers versus Foreigners" 
games, which are enjoyed by all. The season closed 
with a "bang." The Matrics., calling themselves 
the "Volley Dollies," challenged the Staff to the 
annual Staff versus Matric game. Although the 
Staff were the victors, the Matrics took their de- 
feat with chins up. 

On behalf of the girls I should like to thank Miss 
Keyzer, and also our Sports' Captain, Marian Mac- 
Dougall, for making this season such a successful 

Harriet Schneider, VI A. 


The beginning of the Summer Term is always 
the signal for the K.H.C. Tennis tournaments to 
get under way. The turnout this year was extremely 
enthusiastic even more so than in the previous 
years. The draws were made and the lists were 

During the first week or so of term, snow and rain 
gave everyone a dim view of any possible tennis 
but it wasn't long before the sun was shining and 
everyone was clamouring for courts, some of which 
had been reserved weeks ahead. 

Now that the tournaments have really got under 
way it is only a matter of time before the compet- 
itors will have been narrowed down to the four final 
play-off groups, Junior and Senior doubles and 
singles. (May the best man win!) Unfortunately 
the Magazine must go to press before the final 
results can be included in this report. 

Anne Dowie, VI B. 


This year basketball has been (as always) a most 
popular sport. As both Stanstead and K.H.C. had 
contagious diseases during the Easter term, we 
couldn't have any inter-school games. That fact 
however, didn't put a stop to games within the 
school. Competition between Forms has never been 
stronger and crowds of enthusiastic supporters 
turned out to cheer for their teams. VIA nearly 
killed themselves trying to defeat the VIB's and 
finally succeeded after about three failures. The 
VB's and VA's gave all opponents wonderful 
games and are turning into top notch players. Con- 
gratulations to the Matrics who are the "Champs." 
In the inter-House games, Rideau was the winner 
against strong competition. 

Heather Morris, VI A. 


Never before has so much enthusiasm been shown 
for badminton. The courts were tilled every night 
after Prep., while even in the few minutes before 
morning classes, to say nothing of every available 
moment on the week-ends, people were busy prac- 
tising for the tournament. Every game in that was 
largely attended. After a long and exciting match 
against Marian MacDougall and Mary Vaughn, 
the senior doubles championship was carried off 
by Elizabeth Wallace and Juliana de Kuyper, while 
Susan Cassels took the senior singles from Heather 
Morris after a hard fought battle. 

In the junior tournament Ann Taylor defeated 
Wendy Whitehead to win over Susan McMaster 
and Dixie Lambert, and to carry off the junior 





Here at K.H.C. we had a truly perfect winter of 
outdoor sports. We did a great deal of both skiing 
and skating and we were very lucky to have such 
good weather. We enjoyed many afternoons skiing 
at Hillcrest, where we received very helpful in- 
struction. The new ski lift certainly helped those 
of us who either got tired quickly on the rope tows 
or else were beginners and couldn't manage them. 
We were also fortunate in having so many kind 
and willing Staff to take us to Hillcrest and we 
should like to thank them all. I truly don't know 
how they could put up with all the noise we made 
trying to sing on the bus. 

Up until the last four weeks of term the skating 
was very good, but it was a shame that the carnival 
had to be cancelled because the weather turned 
mild. Even so, we should like to thank Mrs. Aitken 
for giving up so many hours to our enjoyment. We 
sincerely appreciate her kindness in playing all 
those records for us over the loud speaker. Even the 
girls who did not do much skating enjoved listening 
to the music while watching the skaters or while 
walking around the ovals. 

Susanne Meagher, VI A. 















This is still her favourite position. 

Toujours le sport! 

There will be House Meetings right after 

She wouldn't want to be left out. 

" she could argue still." 

"Have you heard — ?" 
No more order marks. Please! 
Still has the same smile. 
The surprised look is very natural. 
. Always enjoys a ride— preferablv by bus to 
The world is her oyster. 
Xo dieting then — 
Are you trying to fool me? 
Are you really biting those nails ? 
"Wait for me!" 

There should be a horse or a book in this 

She's still as fair as she was then. 
This blonde has become a brunette. 
She isn't as placid now as she was then. 
This girl still tells a good story. 
This picture belongs to the pre-Italian period. 
laken just before she came to K.H.C. 
Then as now— out for a good time 
She still thinks life is a big joke. 
This outfit suggests her name. 
Perhaps she has just tidied up the beach. 
What! No pile of books? 

Off to H. LLcae5T // 

Key on page 26- 



Unorthodox numbering a VI 



1. We have a great woman at our head, 
She teaches us Algebra, puts us to bed 
A party in the kitchen during the first term we had 
And she cooking hamburgers in a chef's hat was clad 
Her arrival anywhere she usually announces 
By a little grey poodle who through the door bounces 
And anyone looking at her can easily see, 
That she is the sweetest Form Mistress that ever could be 

2. She's a new gal and lots of fun. 
Can beat us all playing badminton. 

3. 6A Swiss Miss dark and small 
Reads French stories to us all. 

4. D. A. hairdo, tall and slim, 
Sits in Latin with a grin. 

5. This girl skis with the greatest of ease 
And always reminds us to bend our knees. 

fi. This girl is blond— nice and tall, 

fn briefy pyjamas she wows them all. 

7. Northern classmate, nature's friend, 
Always a willing hand she will lend! 

8. Fits of laughter in our class 

Are always coming from that redheaded lass. 
!). She loves good old Canadian mail, 

Especially when it's from Wesfdal'e 
10. Always clad in orange and black, 

From morning 'til she hits the sack 
1 1. Pose a while and she will scribble 

A cartoon that will make you giggle. 
12. Her heart is beating like a clock, 

It's lost between Compton and Little Rock 

to guess. 


( Key on page 26) 

13. Trying on halos in class, 
Helps the time to quickly pass 

14. Dark, not short, at French she's a smarty 
famous lor many a 24th of May party " ' 

15. In prep, up she'd never look, " " 
... S er h ! a( ' k hair dangling in her book. 
10. Hawaiian dancer, neat as a pin, 

Teaches us all to wiggle and spin. 


1. Collecting is one of this bad girl's hobbies, 
A lew tacts, Toms, Dicks and Bobbys 

- Une word is enough so you won't have 
And that everlasting word is 'mess ' 
Uowboy Blackie loves to ride 
Missed the saddle, went over'the side. 
My daddy told me when I was small 
Id always play soccer and basketball. 
That friendly hi! has distinctive squeaks, 

wLT^VTf a Y ay Wtone she speaks. 
What is it that makes the bed jiggle? 
Of course, it's that unending gigfle 
Harmonizing is this gal's line ' 

When Di drowns her out, then it's fine. 
«u el and subdued to the strange viewer 
But among friends, don't be too sure 

And'inTi & n^ * deer ' sh «' can P la y tennis and 

n , . 1 g ,l ' onu ' try we in her c ^e. 

Nature was generous to bequeath 
A beautiful set of pwi rly teeth 
lo see the board better in classes. 

Out tel ' • a l ,)a j'' 0f Wue-rimmed glasses. 
Wuiel girl with the sultry eyes 

Oont mind them, they're a disguise. 









"Will you stop making so much noise; you can 
be heard all over the school. And for goodness' 
sake pick up some of the paper; this room is a 
mess!" That is directed toward the VIB's, terrors 
of the senior wing. At the moment they are pre- 
paring for the first class — supposedly. 

In the far corner Pat McFetrick, Gail Goodeve, 
and Lorna Murray are discussing the parties of 
the past Easter holidays, while, with heads to- 
gether, Libby Wallace, this term's sports captain, 
and Jill Bastian, last term's sports captain, Jane 
Mitchell, and Pat Archibald recall the past soccer 
season and look forward to the coming tennis tour- 

Anne Dowie and Mary Vaughan are chasing 
each other around the classroom with chalky board 
brushes, knocking into Sandy Robertson, who pays 
no attention but continues reading her poem about 
the sea to Margot Maclntyre. In the front of the 
room Cynnie Hutchins is patiently trying to des- 
cribe the functions of the digestive system to Cinny 
Bailey. Beside them Bizzy Angus, Brenda Cuth- 
bertson, and Bev Rooney are leafing through a 
fashion magazine, while Joanne Millar keeps her 
head buried in a text book. 

Honor MacDougall is telling Sue Carling a fas- 
cinating story, but Sue seems to be more interested 
in polishing up her fancy skates. Allison Beattie is 
arguing with Joan Grier over who's on door, and 
Adie Cassils is madly trying to finish everyone's 
Red Cross knitting before Sunday. Judi Vivian and 
Di MacDougall are painfully trying to say some- 
thing in Spanish, while Elise Menasche and Di 
Gibson collapse with laughter. 

From a group near the door Catherine Harvie's 
and Vivian Wagner's shrieks rise above the uproar; 
Ann Sise cackles, and Heather Dewar smiles de- 
murely at Mary Jane Thompson, the cause of the 
amusement. Sheila Kelly takes her nose out of the 
sports section and smiles quietly. 

Suddenly Miss Hughes, our form mistress, ap- 
pears and order comes out of the chaos. She enters 
and the door closes on the 1955-56 VIB's. 

Outside the VA Window, King's Hall, Compton, 

April 15, 1956. 
Dear Tom Cat, 

How are you and how's the weather been over at 
Bishop's this year? It's been all right here, and 
they've managed to get in quite a lot of soccer, 
skiing; and indoors, basketball. 

By "they" I mean the VA form — through whose 

window I make it my practice to enter the school. 
Many a day I watch them at work ? I may as well 
tell you about them alphabetically as it'll be easiest. 

Though from my window I cannot see Elaine 
Audet, I can hear her; Judy Bignell always seems 
to have her nose in a book and is apparently reward- 
ed; I can't see Heather Black, but can smell her 
candy; Lyn Carter is the class correspondent; and 
as for Rosie Christensen and Joan Cordeau — I 
wonder what those notes say ? I never hear Marilyn 
Cowie herself, but I often hear others calling her 
"Moo"! Gale Davis's drawings are always floating 
around; and at the Thursday night French class I 
see Gabrielle de Kuyper slaving away! Daphne 
Duncanson (or "Daphee Pooh") is the class clown; 
now I see her and now I don't. Carole Gibbs is very 
quiet, but I've heard she has lovely clothes. Nancy 
Glass — oh, I forgot, you know her — the gay blonde 
girl whose father is principal of "your" school. Judy 
Hingston has just been elected form captain, and 
Di Hornig sports captain. I think they will both be 
terrific. Nancy Jackman supplies them all with 

Golly, I'm only just half way through the thirty 
of them, but you see they're quite the form. 

Dixi Lambert sits in the second row; I wonder if 
she knows which end is the front of the room. 
Jennifer Lamplough seems very quiet, but there 
must be some reason for her sitting in a front seat; 
Cindy Lyman is the girl I often hear being teased 
about having to chase some train; Shirley Morris 
was Sports Captain in the second term and worked 
very hard with her basketball teams. One question 
I fail to answer is this — "How did Jennifer Parsons 
wangle a back seat?" Bonnie Penhale is a great 
skier, I hear; I am fond of her because she's near- 
est my size. Judy Pinkerton is a country girl, but 
still no country bumpkin; and Elizabeth Price, 
after being Form Captain the first term, really began 
living it up the second. While Kate Reed is our 
classical dancer, Penny Throsbyislearningto master 
her French ; and only the back of Jareth Taylor do 
I ever see — how that girl works! Ann Taylor was 
Sports Captain the first term; Mary Warren tells 
us enthralling tales of her holiday life; and as for 
Wendy Whitehead — what the Staff don't know 
won't hurt them! 

They certainly have a wonderful Form Mistress! 
Their Red Cross display and basketball would have 
been nil without her. I join the rest of them in 
giving three hearty cheers for Miss Keyzer! 
Good-bye for now, Minny Cat 

P.S. — I forgot about that Peverley girl; she was 
Form Captain in the second term. M.C. 


There have been .seventeen girls in the VB this 
year. Most of the girls are Canadians except Helen 
Hand from Bermuda, Lucy Caridi from Colombia 
and Ann Smith from Guatemala. The rest of the 
girls live in the Provinces of Quebec and Ontario. 

Our Form Captains this year were Sally Scott 
and Janice Byers. Our Sports Captains were Julia 
Kingstone and Charlotte Stevens. We contributed 
to school life quite a bit. At Hallowe'en our class 
went dressed as the letters in King's Hall. At Christ- 
mas we gave a play with the IVA's and IVB's 
called "THE CHRISTMAS WISH." We all went 
to Miss Gillard's birthday party. Then for the Red 
Cross, we knitted and sewed garments of many 
kinds and went to the Red Cross supper. Then also 
we have done things as a class. For Valentine's Day 
we had a. box and distributed Valentines among 
ourselves. For the birthday of our Form Mistress, 
Miss Ramsay, we gave a party and had things to 
eat. At Christmas time we gave each other Christ- 
mas stockings and went over to the cottage for a 
party. At the end of each term, Miss Ramsay gave 
us suckers which were very much appreciated. 

Of course, we also had sports. Most of us joined 
in the tennis, badminton and ping-pong tour- 
naments. During the winter we did a lot of skiing 
and skating. On Friday nights we went up to the 
gym and played 'Between Double Fire' and Basket- 

Even though there have been a lot of mishaps 
this year, on the whole we have had lots of fun and 
have been a happy Form and we would all like to 
give "three cheers" for Aliss Ramsay our Form 
Mistress for helping us through this year. 

rMvro^u? Lost vOo*>>S 


olL> ro£4 


This year our Form has consisted of eight— 
namely — Bonnie Bonder, Josctte Cochand, Susan 
Gibson, Marcia Pacaud, Margot Parker, Michele 
Robertson, Lorraine Ronalds and Judith Westwater. 
Our Form Captains for the year have been Josette, 
Judith and Michele. 

At our Hallowe'en masquerade our Form went 
as the Seven Dancing Stars and the Moon. With 
the IVB's and VB's we put on a Christmas Play 
under the direction of Miss Hewson. During the 
year we have done several short French Plays 
directed by Madame Eandcs. 

In the Easter term, Bishop's University had an 
Ice Carnival to which we went, Also in that term, 
we had a, lot of skating and skiing. We had little 
swimming on account of measles in the school. 
Each of us made some article for the Red Cross 
Donation which was held along with a wonderful 
supper on (he second last day of term. We thank 
Mrs. Aitken for arranging this supper for us. In 
Hie summer term we had a little bit of maple- 
sugaring. We would like to thank Mrs. Elliot for 
making our year in IVA very enjoyable. 

Judith Westwater IV A. 






April 30, 1956. 
Dear Macdonaldites, 

Sept. 15, thirty-eight soldiers returned to start the 
march up the road of success which, for Macdonald, 
is paved with gold. 

Sept. 26, ten recruits joined the regiment to fight 
for the standards set by this, our triangled-emblem. 
Oct. 25, two of the rank were surprised and so 
very proud to become your leaders. 

For such an army, our motto could surely be, 
"United we conquer," for never have we divided or 
fallen. Throughout the whole year your spirit and co-operation has con- 
tinually left us speechless. Remember to prove to our successors, as you 
have proved to us, that Macdonald is always the House of the Year. 


Terry and Sue. 




King's Hall, 
Compton, P.Q. 
June 1956. 
Dear Montcalmites, 

The year has come to a close and for us, your 
prefects, it has been a good one. Good, because all 
of you made it that way by your House spirit and 
co-operation, even when you found it hard to obey 
all the rules. 

Most of our totals have been good this year 
though we never seemed to have reached our goal. 
Nevertheless we have always felt that you were 
behind us and that means more than even the high- 
est totals. 

You have all worked very hard this year in Sports 
and your enthusiasm couldn't have been better. 
The results are shown in the number of points you 
have gained for your House. Keep it up next year! 

For those who wear the Montcalm tie, the most 
difficult thing to do is to stay out of "trouble" ! This 
year, though, you have tried admirably to over- 
come your faults and we ask you to continue this 
fight for "The Best House!" 

We leave at the end of this year, proud to have 
been your prefects. We shall always remember those 
who wear the light blue tie, the happy smile, and 
the mischievous twinkle in the eye. 


Claire and Jane. 



April 30, 1956. 
Dear Rideau, 

We have heard it said that a ship is only as good 
as the crew make it, and this has been true this 
year aboard the "K.H.C. Rideau." 

We, your captains, shall remember with the 
greatest pride this year as one in which we strove to 
help and guide our wayward sailors through all 
kinds of weather. There were many times when we 
all felt like jumping over-board but the enthusiasm, 
co-operation and House spirit in general kept us 
safely on deck. 

We feel that everyone has tried her hardest to 
get high plus totals every week and many have 
improved a great deal. Naturally there have been 
a few disappointments but at one time or another 
we all have to learn the lesson of "If at first you 
don't succeed, try, try, again." 

We should like to thank you all for your never- 
ceasing efforts in every sport this year, and also for 
the untiring way in which you've all tried to keep 
the Rideau colours flying high on the mast in all 

Now the time has come for us to retire and so to 
the Rideau ship and all her future crew, and cap- 
tains, we'd like to wish a Bon Voyage. 


Eve and Pat. 




Leeds Girl's High School Magazine: Leeds, England 

St. Andrew's College Review: St. Andrew's, Aurora, Ontario. 

Edgehill Review: Edgehill School, Windsor, N.S. 

Ludemas: Havergal College, Toronto, Out. 

Bishop Strachan School Magazine: Bishop Strachan School, Toronto, Ont. 

Lachute High School Annual: Lachute, P.Q. 

The Beaver Log: Miss Edgar's and Miss Cramp's School, Montreal, P.Q. 

The Tallow Dip: Netherwood, Rothesay, N.B. 

The Croftonian: Crofton House, Vancouver, B.C. 

The Branksome Slogan: Branksome Hall, Toronto, Ont. 

The Blue and White: Rothesay School, Rothesay, N.B. 

The Pibroch: Strathallan School, Hamilton, Ont. 

The Mitre: University of Bishop's College, Lennoxville, P.Q. 

The Bishop's College School Magazine: Bishop's College School, Lennoxville, P.Q. 

Technical Collegiate Institute: Saskatoon, Sask. 

Samara: Elmwood School, Ottawa, Ont. 

Intra Muros: St. Clement's School, Toronto, Out. 

The Record: Trinity College School, Port Hope, Ont. 

The Ashburian: Ashbury College School, Ottawa, Ont. 

The Grove Chronicle: Lakefield, Ont. 

The Almaphalian: Alma College, St. Thomas, Ont. 

The Balmoral Hall Magazine: Balmoral Hall, Winnipeg, Man. 

The Chronicle: The Study, Montreal, P.Q. 

The Alibi: Albert College, Belleville, Ont. 

St. Mary's School: Wantage, Berks, England. 


itric Key to baby 


(from par/e 21 












de Kuyper 










S. Eakin 
















G. Eakin 

















VIA Report Key {from page 22) 


1. Miss Keith 

2. Sue Cassels 

3. Anne Bieler 

4. Judy Robb 

5. Lucy Doucet 
0. Irma Schiess 

7. Lynn Francis 

8. Lally Kennedy 

9. Anne Holton 
10. Janet Martin 
1 1 • Judy Perron 

12. Frances Harley 

13. Flora Church 

14. Sue Meagher 

15. Tottie Schneider 
10. Liz Echols 


1 . Judy Gruchy 

2. Di Fowler 

3. Sue Blackburn 

4. Anne Iddon 

5. Jane Gushing 
0. Heather Tooley 

7. Liz Napier 

8. Tony Newman 

9. Bambi Reeves 
10. Heather Morris 
1 1 • Linda Grier 

12. Tony Taylor 





The ground was so dry it seemed almost colour- 
less, except, for the rosy glow thrown over it by the 
setting sun. The stubble of grass stretched bravely 
between its straight boundaries, its flatness broken 
only by the shadows of two dogs that seemed to 
float rather than run across it. Even the strangely 
elongated silhouettes could not hide the almost 
ridiculous difference between the two animals — 
the tall, slender gracefulness of the first made the 
second look even shorter, fatter and more awkward 
than reality did. Dixie noticed the difference in a 
sideways glance as she scrambled frantically to 
keep up with Thursday's effortless strides, and felt 
a moment's bitterness. In an instant she was asham- 
ed of herself, and tossed her ears back gaily in an 
effort to forget that a mongrel like herself could 
never expect to be as beautiful as Thursday's pure 
Irish setter parentage had made her. 

"Don't be vain, Dixie!" she scolded herself, and 
then she really got down to business and redoubled 
her efforts to catch Thursday. 

Loping ahead, Thursday was laughing to her- 
self in the quiet way that dogs do have of enjoying 
a joke. She was remembering how the collie from 
across the road had looked at her when she had 
recited her pedigree to him. Thursday's heart loved 
looks such as that one — she had been collecting 
them and sorting them in order of merit ever since 
she had been old enough to realize her own beauty. 
She pitied Dixie in a scornful way, and considered 
the fact that she had befriended the smaller dog an 
act of extreme kindness on her own part. She knew 
that Dixie adored her, and was glad. 

The shadows lengthened even as the two dogs 
ran. "How strange to be running nowhere!" thought 
Thursday. And then, with a swift toss of her head, 
"How lovely"! 

Dixie thought it was lovely too; in fact she could 
think of nothing nearer heaven than tearing aim- 
lessly across the darkening field after her idol. She 
did wish she could keep up with Thursday, though. 
She almost wanted to call out and ask her to stop 
for a minute, but that would bring on Thursday's 
scorn, and besides, she didn't want to waste her 

Suddenly Thursday did stop, and turned with a 
swift, sharp movement. Dixie knew that if she had 
tried to do that she would have got. her legs tangled 
up and gone tumbling into a disgraceful heap. She 
galloped the few yards to Thursday's side and 
flopped to the ground with a little sigh. Thursday's 
eyes looked serious. 

"I was just thinking how beautiful shadow is." 

Thursday was often taken with a philosophic turn 
of mind, and poor Dixie, who tried so hard to 
understand, would be completely lost. It was be- 
cause of Thursday's breeding, of course; she had 
brains as well as beauty. "It's really shadow that 
gives things substance," continued the dog. "With- 
out shadow would there be a third dimension?" 

She was waiting for an answer. Dixie stared 
dumbly, miserably. She wished she knew. Thurs- 
day lay down gracefully and regarded her friend 
with gentle, deep eyes. 

"You know what, Dixie?" She paused to cross 
her front paws daintily, as Dixie gazed in admira- 
tion. "I don't love Annie." 

Annie was Thursday's owner — a loud, sporty 
woman with a large collection of silver cups won by 
her even larger collection of show dogs and horses. 
Dixie was not surprised. 

"Poor Thursday," she said, wanting timidly to 
lick one of her friend's satin paws, but not quite 
daring to. Dixie herself belonged to a little golden 
boy who loved her and hated her by turns, as 
children will. 

"I don't only not love her," Thursday confided. "I 
hate her. What does it feel like to love someone?" 

Dixie struggled for words. "It's so hard to ex- 
plain," she said. 

Thursday's dark eyes were turned towards the 
setting sun. "I have always thought it must be 
wonderful to belong to someone who loves you," 
she said gently, "because then you could love that 
person in return. You could have the whole world 
before you at one touch of a hand, one kind word, 
or even just a glance. I have often seen you share 
a secret with your little fellow that way." 

"Yes," said Dixie. She was trembling. 

"Oh, well!" Thursday threw herself flat, on her 
side to make a patch of graceful darkness in the 
twilight, "I don't really care. It might be interest- 
ing, that's all. Come, let's run!" 

With the last words she was up and away, Dixie 
a fraction of an instant behind her. The shadows 
lay black and heavy along the ground, unable to 
bear their own weight any longer. Thursday ran 
carelessly, he)' head held high, her tail a jaunty 
plume. Dixie bounced and scrambled joyously. The 
Irish shouted something over her shoulder; it, sound- 
ed incredibly like "Have you ever seen the sea?" 
Dixie said "No" to herself, and resolved to do it 
some day. They ran on. 

At the north end of the Held a hill rolled gently 
into position, topped by two straight, gleaming 
bands of iron— the railroad tracks. The dogs reach- 
ed the .rest of (he hill and raced down the man- 



made path, leaping over the cinders between the 
even strips of wood. Thursday saw the puff of 
smoke on the horizon, and paused in her flight to 
notice the delicate curving of its misty edges. 

"I can't go home until the moon is up," she re- 
solved; she had not seen the moon for a long time. 

The train whistle, when it came, had all the 
sorrow of a life-time in its throat. It made Thursday 
shudder. Suddenly she felt unbearably lonely, and 
turned to Dixie to regain some of her former bright- 
ness. To her surprise Dixie was not standing ready 
to receive a glance from her eyes; her head was 
turned deliberately sideways as she watched the 

"Good!" thought Thursday briskly. "She's tak- 
ing in what I told her." 

She too looked at the shadows and saw beauty. 
It was just the last moment before the sun dis- 
appeared completely; the field was washed in gold- 
en brown, and the shadows were black velvet laid 
clearly against it. "I shall never forget that," 
thought Thursday; and at that instant the train 
struck her. 

Dixie's eyes were blinded by coal dust as she 
twisted out of danger, but she heard Thursday's 
sharp cry, and felt as if a part of her own heart 
had gone under the grinding wheels. 

It was strange to be walking homeward so slow- 
ly, but it was even stranger to be alone. Dixie 
could not remember ever being alone before — there 
had always been Thursday, there had always been 
the little fellow. 

"I can't, I can't, I can't," she kept saying over 
and over to herself; but what it was she couldn't 
do she was not quite sure. It had something to do 
with living without Thursday, but on top of that 
was the thought of the little boy. He was so small 
and so happy and gay ! Dixie had an idea that she 
had been neglecting him lately. In fact she was 
sure she had. Why, that was terrible. How could 
she have? She changed her heart-broken walk into 
a trot, and quickened that into a gentle run. She 
would have to hurry if she wanted to see him before 
he was put to bed. And she did want desperately 
to. Dixie ran on, intent on her mission. She never 
once glanced sideways, but she knew without turn- 
ing her head that there were three shadows across 
the field. Far behind her the ghost of a gay and 
gallant Irish setter stood almost lost in the dusk. 
Far ahead of her the spirit of a child stood with 
outstretched arms and a welcoming smile, and 
between them was the shadow of Dixie herself, 
galloping gladly home to her little fellow. 

Susan Kilgour, Matrie. 


The charm of it was, that 1o see the Changing 
of the Guard had always been my childhood wish. 
I could remember each night before going to bed 
listening to Christopher Robin's exciting morning 
with Alice, while I snuggled flown to dream my 
own version of the brightest parade in my imagi- 
nation. Now at last, after nearly twelve years, I 
stood on Queen Victoria's monument waiting to 
see my wish come true. 

The crowd was a friendly one. Everyone jostled 
everybody else, saying an "Excuse me" in prac- 
tically any language. Camera fiends darted every- 
where trying to get into position for a good picture. 
I clutched my own camera and strove to get an 
excellent vacancy I could see on the wide staircase 
leading up to the monument. Directly in front was 
Buckingham Palace and behind stretched the tree- 
shaded Mall. On my right were the Canadian gates 
given in honour of Queen Victoria's Jubilee. To the 
left lay St. James Park basking in the sunshine of 
the hot June morning. 

Then there arose a murmur of excitement in the 
crowd. A Southern accent beside me breathed an 
entranced "Oh, look!" Sure enough! Through the 
front arch in the Palace stepped a small brown-and- 
white pony ridden by a man beating two large 
kettle-drums braced to the flanks of the horse. Be- 
hind him followed the fresh day's watch, while 
immediately in front of us the retiring guard was 
retreating in massed formation across the courtyard 
of the Palace. With lightning speed and precision 
the two guards faced each other — rows upon rows 
of high, shiny patent leather boots, red tailored 
trousers and jackets, pleated and pressed and top- 
ped by massive black bombadier hats. Hundreds 
of silver buckles, buttons, and spurs and 1 trass trum- 
pets and tubas gleamed in the sunlight. A hush 
fell over the crowd as the retiring Guard Captain 
gave the Royal Standard to the new Commander. 
The ceremony completed, the brass band played 
a quick retreating march while the new ( iuard took 
up their posts. 

Suddenly, as if moved by an unseen hand, the 
crowd swarmed into the Mall just in time to see the 
Whitehall Guard come riding around the Palace. 
Their handsome steeds were groomed to perfection 
and glistened and snorted. The men bobbed up and 
down, their helmet-tassels flouncing in the breeze. 
The sounds of swords slapping stirrups and of 
hooves pounding pavement died slowly away. As the 
last cavalry standard disappeared around a bend I 
knew my childhood dream had not deceived me. 

Frances Harley, VI A. 




The tall capable young matron impatiently shoved 
hack an unruly lock of thick blond hair (which 
still resisted all her efforts to incorporate it in her 
severe bun — betraying perhaps some inkling of a 
gayer nature which she tried to suppress.) With the 
other hand she clung tight to a small terrified waif 
who struggled vainly to free himself from her grip. 

"Oh, Fraulein, I don't want to meet the Ameri- 
can swines! I'll never be naughty again if only you 
won't make me go." 

His voice quavered as he fought to keep the tears 
from filling his doe-like eyes — the sole legacy left 
him by his Italian mother. Usually they held a 
hint of some mischievous plan but now they were 
almost black with fear. The horrible nightmare 
which haunted him flashed vividly across his young 
mind — of the black nights when the sudden vivid 
flashes of bright lights slashed the darkness, re- 
vealing the crumbling walls of the gutted buildings— 
and the horrible screams of some weird monsters 
accompanying them ; of one night in particular when 
he had crouched miserably beneath his bed, vainly 
calling for his mother who did not come; — of one 
bright flash and a deafening roar which brought 
the walls of his home tumbling down; of days he 
spent, weary and cold — huddled in the ruins of his 
home — or searching through the rubble trying to 
find his mother. He could not accept the fact in his 
five-year-old mind that she had gone forever. There 
he was found by some kind Germans who took him 
to the orphanage — his home for the past five years. 
He had never forgotten their words, "Ach, it was 
those devils — The American swines. They murdered 
your mama." 

From that day he had borne an intense dislike 
for these unknown murderers. Even when his play- 
mates would rush to the American G.I.s to receive 
candy he would remain aside with a hostile look. 

Now lie had been told that he was going to live 
in America as the son of a couple of these abhorred 
people. He was not the sort of boy to whom hate 
comes easily; indeed, the Americans were his sole 
aversion, but he never ceased to forget this. At tins 
moment he was fighting a losing battle to escape 
a fate which was for him worse than death. He 
glanced out the window at his comrades gaily sail- 
ing paper boats in the large puddles left behind by 
the retreating snow. The ivy vine covering the 
opposite wall had sent out tiny shoots of delicate 
leaves as if spinning a, lacy green cloth to hide the 
pitted walls. Brightly coloured tulips — blue, gold, 
and icd added a touch of gaiety to the scene. 

"Probably they have no beautiful spring there- 
in that wilderness," he sighed. 

The two halted before the Door— the entrance to 
the forbidding, mysterious depths of the reception 
room— scene of many heartaches as well as many 
joys! The Fraulein straightened his collar and 
smoothed his hair. With a warning, "There is noth- 
ing to fear; remember, Franz, you are ten. Act 
accordingly," she opened the door and gently push- 
ed him inside. 

The door swung closed behind him. In a moment 
of panic he half turned aside as if to beat upon it, 
but remembering orders, he turned to face his 
future parents. The petite dark-haired woman had 
a kind face but her beautiful face betrayed some 
past suffering. She exuded a warm friendly air and 
involuntarily Franz felt drawn to her. The man, 
too, did not look remotely like the horrible ogre he 
had imagined, hut surprisingly resembled the typi- 
cal German, being strong, tall, and blonde. 

Hut hate and fear are not so easily pushed aside. 
His future parents saw with a sick feeling a forlorn 
figure dressed in baggy trousers and sneakers, his 
head thrown back in a defiant gesture while he 
regarded them warily, clenching his fists. Only a 
slight tremour of the chin betrayed his fear. The 
atmosphere grew tense; even the drowsy spring 
flies halted their buzzing as if to witness the drama 
taking place. 

Suddenly the quiet was shattered by the roar of 
jets! They seemed to he diving — diving straight 
for that room — coming nearer and nearer. The boy, 
his eves dilating with shock, leaped beneath a table. 
A hoarse cry resounded through the room, "Mama." 

The woman crawled under the table and drew the 
shaking child to her. Meanwhile the clamour of the 
jets grew dimmer as they swooped over the roof. 
Gradually the child became calm, while the woman 
in low, compassionate tones told him the story of her 

"You see, we once had a son — he would be your 
age now. We were visiting my parents in England 
when war broke out. My husband left for the U.S.A. 
immediately— he was a member of the State De- 
partment. I intended to follow with Johnny a week 
later. I can still see him" — she paused and then 
continued bravely, "trying to stop the tears as he 
waved goodbye to his father. He was only five then! 
They never saw each other again. Johnny and his 
grandparents were killed two days later when 
German bombs wrecked their home. I was out 
visiting friends at the time." 

She paused briefly as she tried to control the 
quaver which insisted upon creeping into her voice." 



"We — we wanted to have another boy as our 
son who had suffered as we have done." 

The child hesitatingly put his small hand into 
hers as he looked up into her eyes — so like his own 
brown ones, trying to express his sympathy! He 
clambered out from under the table and as he helped 
her to her feet he turned to his father. 

"Papa, come, I must show you and Mama my 

He shyly slipped his hand into his father's im- 
mense paw, and the three walked out of the room — 

Mika Ignatieff, Matric. 


It was a cold dull afternoon as Billy walked 
home from school. The howling wind lashed out 
and angrily nipped his little snub nose, turning it 
a rosy red. Billy pulled his collar up around his 
tiny woolen cap to keep the snow from sliding down 
his neck, and he squinted up his round green eyes 
into slender black-fringed crescents to prevent the 
snow from stinging them. The blizzard was so fe- 
rocious and so thick, one could see barely a foot 

Billy shuffled along carefully, trying not to slip 
on the icy pavement. Suddenly he kicked something 
soft, and to his horror heard a feeble little cry from 
below. He looked down and saw a tiny furry heap 
lying in the snow. On closer observation he dis- 
covered that this dirty little mass of fur and bones 
was a dog, and that it was gazing up at him help- 
lessly, its huge amber eyes full of pain and fear. 

"Why you poor little pup!" cried Billy, 
gingerly lifting the trembling little heap into his 
arms. "Don't worry, you'll be all right once I take 
you home and give you something to eat." 

Carrying the dog carefully up the front steps of 
his house, he opened the door. In his hurry and 
excitement Billy forgot to take off his boots and 
bounded into the bright warm kitchen leaving be- 
hind him a dirty track of melting snow mixed with 
mud. He laid the puppy on the kitchen table. 

"Now little man, I'll bring you your dinner. It'll 
probably be the first dinner you'll have had in a 
long time too," he muttered, feeling the puppy's 
sharp ribs. 

Billy heated some milk to just the right temper- 
ature and, with great dignity, tested it on his wrist. 
Unfortunately the dog did not seem to want the 
milk, for it just lay shivering and whimpering softly 
on the table. 

Sudden fear stabbed through Bill's body and he 
thought, "Oh, my heavens! You're not going to 
die are you, Puppy ? You can't do that. I won't 
let you, Pups. I want you warm and strong and 
happy once more. Think of all the fun we can have 
together. In the summer we live in the country, 
Puppy, and behind my house there's a huge green 
field, just full of rabbits and other delightful things 
for you to chase. I've never had a little dog before, 
Puppy, although I've always wanted one. Oh, 
you've just got to live!" 

Billy held the milk near the dog's wee black 
button of a nose so he could smell its sweet richness. 
The Pup opened its eyes for a minute, looked at 
Billy gratefully, then shut them again. Billy looked 
at the little dog, at its closed eyes with their long 
silky lashes, and at the tiny drops of melted snow, 
resembling tear drops, covering its matted taffy- 
coloured fur. Gently he began to pull off some of 
the hard lumps of ice from the puppy's dainty little 
paws, and its listless stub of a tail. Then again he 
coaxed the pup to drink. At last it opened its mouth, 
and slowly, so slowly, licked a small amount of 
milk from the glass bowl Billy held out to it. The 
dog shivered a little as the milk slid down its throat; 
then lay still once more. 

All night long Billy sat with the dog, stroking it 
gently, ever so gently. Once in a while he tried to 
force a little more milk down its throat. Billy got 
more tired as the night ebbed away. His face lost 
its sanguine glow and dark circles like smudges of 
charcoal lay under his eyes. At last dawn came, and 
with it more snow. The sky was as grey and as dull 
as before. Billy put his hand over the puppy's 
heart and gazed down at him sorrowfully. The 
pup suddenly lifted its little head, its eyes adoring 
and grateful. Billy bent down while the dog licked 
him softly on the cheek, then it lay down and 
wagged its little stub of a tail. Billy's eyes shone 
with happiness. 

"You'll be all right," he cried! But the moment 
he spoke, Billy felt the heart beat once only, and 
then lie silent. With an agonized groan he buried 
his head in the puppy's soft fur and cried as 
though his heart would break. This time the drops 
that resembled tears sparkling on the pup's coat 
were real. 

Penny Parsons, Matric. 





If you find yourself alone at home some evening 
with nothing in particular to do, curl up in an arm- 
chair in front of the crackling tire, turn the lights 
low, and explore the world of music. Wha1 is more 
enjoyable or relaxing? There are some who pass 
through life always in top gear and never stop to 
let the soothing notes of good music seep through 
their troubled minds and bodies, refreshing and 
strengthening them for what is si ill to come. Others, 
too, are thrilled only by the loud and rasping 
sounds which pour unceasingly from the wireless 
on the "Hit Parade" or from some jazz concert. 
Many too have never had the opportunity of 
listening to good music and those who have, some- 
times never lake advantage of their fortunate 

There is a lime and place for all music and one 
cannot do better than to taste of it all, but to-night 
we are going to listen to the music which was 
written by great composers and which has stood 
the test of time. Perhaps you prefer to sit alone in 
the darkened room to listen to your records but if 
you have a friend who enjoys music too, she may 
be good company for you. Do not invite a person 
to your house who you know will not stop talking, 
for you cannot listen to music and carry on a con- 
versation at the same time. There are some who 
read while they are listening but these hear only 
the outline of the piece and never learn to under- 
stand what is happening, or feel that they are 
taking part in it. So, if you really want to listen to 
your record collection and get to know if, do not 
plan to catch up on the neighbourhood gossip at 
the same time. 

What pieces have you in your collection, and 
what mood are you in ? The kind of music you 
play depends so much on I he latter; il is up to you 
to decide what you would like to hear most. 1 1 is 
advisable to try to collect through the years a large 
variety of records and then you may pick and 
choose as the whim takes you, and enjoy il so 
much more. 

Soon (he choice has been made and the melody 
of the first record swells through the room and 
transports you to another land. As I he sound of 
"The Midsummer Night's Dream" reaches you 
the flames of the fire change into a dark green wood 
with elves and spirits dancing around and a. grace- 
ful queen under a spell talking to a donkey. Then, 
suddenly the picture changes and you see a, land 
still and asleep, bathed in moonlight with I he 
sound of the "Moonlight Sonata," re-echoing 

through the silent air. The rippling notes of the 
"Rustle of Spring" bring you out of your reverie 
and you find yourself imagining children and ani- 
mals frolicking in the fields, the smell of an April 
shower, and all the beauties connected with Spring. 
How often are you taken to different lands and 
into other seasons. All too soon you realize the 
evening is over and it is time to go to bed. 

You turn off the gramophone, and put away the 
records and then after locking up the house you 
find yourself floating up the stairs and waltzing 
down the passage with the strain of one of Strauss' 
waltzes still in your ears. It is not hard to go to 
sleep when you are rocked by the sound of "Brahms' 
Lullaby" and your deep and peaceful dreams are 
full of gentle fairies and kind, enchanted queens! 
Patricia Jackson, Matric. 


Twilight was a young stallion. He was big, six- 
teen hands, and would be even bigger when he was 
older. His legs were long and powerfully muscled, 
his neck massive and arched, his coat as black as 
coal and shining like silk. Yes, he was a handsome 
young horse. 

Twilight belonged to the Brown family whose 
cottage was situated on the outskirts of Balloon 
Town. Kenny, the only child of the Browns, had 
received Twilight four years ago on his ninth birth- 
day. He was proud to be master of a horse, espe- 
cially Twilight. Kenny's usual routine was to get up 
early in the morning, ride Twilight down to see the 
yearlings, feed him, have his own breakfast, then 
run off to school. 

In school his mind would wander off to the sum- 
mer holidays, which were only two weeks away, and 
flic shows that he and Twilight were going to enter 
together. He would wait impatiently for the bell 
to ring so that he could get home and train Twilight 
in the large paddock behind their big red barn. In 
every show thai Twilight had entered, he had come 
al least third and usually second or first. There was 
one thing, however, that worried Kenny. His parents 
had told him that they might have to sell Twilight 
because they could not afford to keep him, but if 
he worked hard and came first in his class they 
would not sell Twilight. Kenny had not been doing 
well in school at all, and his parents knew all about 
if- He knew and realised (hat the time had come 
when he must settle down and work in all his sub- 
jects. He had to show his parents that he could 
<'<>me first and above all be able to keep his fav- 
ourite companion, Twilight. 



During the next week Kenny was doing extreme- 
ly well in school asking very intelligent questions. 
Mrs. Darling, his teacher, began to wonder what on 
earth had come over him. After two weeks of hard 
study, the test week was over and report day had 
come. Kenny decided that he was going to bring a 
big red apple for Mrs. Darling. If he came first, he 
would give it to her; but if he didn't she would not 
get it. He rose very early in the morning, went for 
a long ride on Twilight, had breakfast and ran off to 

As the kitchen door slammed behind him Mrs. 
Brown leaned over the table and said, "George, do 
we have to sell Twilight today. Kenny has been 
working very hard these last few weeks and he 
might come first?" 

"So what if he does come first," replied Mr. 

"Well, we said we wouldn't sell Twilight if he 
came first," Mrs. Brown stammered. 

"If that's the case, we shall let Mr. Rhinestone 
see how he likes Twilight and judge from there," 
Mr. Brown argued. 

Meanwhile, Kenny had reached school and was 
sitting nervously on his desk at the back of the 
room. Mrs. Darling, a sweet old lady with grey 
hair, spectacles and sparkling eyes, was putting 
the reports in order. 

"Kenny, how do you think you did?" asked tall 
lanky John Baird who wore horned-rimmed glasses 
and was extremely intelligent. 

"Oh, oh, I, I, d-o-n-'t know," answered Kenny 

"Silence, please," urged Mrs. Darling. 

"The time has come to give out the reports. Some 
have earned their holidays; others have not, but 
to all of you I wish a happy summer vacation." 

Cheers came from the class and John Baird pre- 
sented Mrs. Darling with a corsage. She thanked 
her class. 

"You may leave when you receive your report. 
There is one boy I am very pleased with and this is 
Kenny Brown who has come first this term with 
92%." She looked down the aisle to where Kenny 
was seated and gave him an affectionate smile. 

Kenny's face beamed with joy. He received his 
report, gave Mrs. Darling the apple, and ran out 
into the street. He ran as fast as he could down the 
the street, through the valley and along the path 
to his home. He burst through the door. 

"Mummy, Mummy, where are you ? I came 
first; I came first." 

There was no answer. 

"Oh well I'll go and show Twilight my report. 
I guess Mum's over at Aunt- Lucy's." 

He raced upstairs, jumped into his old jeans and 
plaid shirt and ran down to the barn, with his re- 
port clutched in his hand. He lifted the familiar 
iron latch. 

"Twilight, we can keep you; we can keep you 
because I came first," he yelled as he opened the 
large wooden door. 

"Twilight, Twilight, T-w-i-1-i-g-h-t, where are 
you ? Where are you ? 

Twilight wasn't in his stall. His full water bowl 
stood in the same corner. The carrot which he got 
once a day lay on the window ledge untouched and 
even his food box was full. 

Kenny's heart began to beat faster, this time not 
with excitement. 

"Did they sell Twilight without letting me know' 
he thought to himself. "But he is mine, he's mine, 
he's mine." 

Kenny walked slowly up to the cottage path. His 
big blue eyes filled with tears. He bit his lip bravely. 
He opened the kitchen door, threw his report on 
the table and walked slowly up to his room. His 
heart began to beat faster and faster. All the mem- 
ories of Twilight ran through his mind. The warm 
tears began to run slowly flown his freckled face. 
He lay on his bed and cried, 'til his heart almost 

"Why did they sell him ? I came first in my class 
and I loved him. He was my only companion," he 
sobbed bitterly into his pillow. 

Finally Mr. and Mrs. Brown arrived home and 
saw Kenny's report on the kitchen table. They 
opened it anxiously and smiled at each other hap- 
pily when they found that he had come first. 

"Thank goodness Mr. Rhinestone has become 
allergic to horses," sighed Mrs. Brown. 

"Kenny dear, where are you?" 

Kenny did not answer. 

Mrs. Brown went up to Kenny's room and when 
she saw his face stained with tears she said, "Kenny, 
we're very proud of you and we aren't going to sell 
Twilight. Mr. Rhinestone has become allergic to 

Kenny's face lit up once again and his mouth 
dropped open. 

"Mummy, are we really keeping him? 

"Yes, dear," and she leaned over and kissed him 
lovingly, and from the barn Kenny heard the 
familar N-A-A-Y of Twilight, 

Joanne Millar, VI B. 




"Good-morning, Sir," called Fred Welsley good 
naturedly as he strolled through the open door 
of the International Airbase in Los Angeles and 
walked across the spacious waiting room towards 
a large desk in the corner. 

He was a tall, well-built man of twenty-three and 
his fairish hair was brushed neatly off his dark 
suntanned face, except for one stubborn piece that 
always seemed to fall across his forehead and dangle 
tantalizingly in front of his eager blue eyes. Al- 
though he was still young, Fred had been flying 
for over five years and was now an accomplished 
pilot. He had always loved his work, flying up 
over the world to far off lands and testing dangerous 
new planes, and now as he stood smartly at atten- 
tion in front of Mi'. Mansfeld, head of the airbase, 
he wondered excitedly what his next job would be. 
"Well Welsley," said Captain Mansfeld as he 
looked up from his work into Fred's eager eyes, 
"Are you feeling in top shape today?" 

"Yes, Sir," Fred quickly replied, as his mind 
raced over possible jobs he might have to do. 

"Good, because we've got a rather tough assign- 
ment for you this time. The new trainer has to be 
tested and you're the only one who can do the job, 
so we're sending yon up to Alaska and ah — lieu- 
tenant ah — Caroline will be going with you," he 
added these words hesitatingly as he watched all 
the eagerness drain out of Fred's bright eyes. 

"But Sir, I.. I.." Fred tried to argue, but it 
was useless. 

"Did you hear me, Welsley, you'll be ready in 
ten minutes on runway 10," Mansfeld said quickly, 
hoping to avoid unpleasantness as he knew only 
too well of Fred's prejudice against the negro. 

This eager young pilot had always been very 
happy at the airbase and was liked by everyone; 
however, a little over six months ago Caroline, a 
brilliant young negro engineer, had been hired at the 
base and Welsley had always fell very strongly 
against the black race. He had never given I he ne- 
gro a chance to show off his good qualities and had 
done everything in his power to gel, Caroline dis- 
missed and everyone else to turn against the inno- 
cent, hardworking engineer. Fred stood now in 
front of his boss, repeating Mansfeld's command 
and glaring desperately at Hie Captain, but he 
knew that there was no use arguing. Me sainted 
despondently and walked from the room. 

In exactly ten minutes the young airman walked 
out onto the field, surveyed the plane and climbed 
into the cockpit where he waited for his unwelcome 

Caroline, having checked and rechecked the en- 
gines of the plane, soon joined him. 

"Got all your woolies?" he smiled, trying to be 
as friendly as he could, for he knew of Welsley's 
intense dislike of him ; however, amazingly enough, 
the young negro had never borne him any grudge, 
a fact which annoyed Fred immensely. The usually 
friendly pilot grunted a reply and started the plane. 

It glided quietly along through the fluffy white 
clouds and across the bright blue sky. It was a 
beautiful plane, thought Fred as he tried the dif- 
ferent engines and tested it in every way possible. 
The hours passed by with scarcely a word passing 
between the two occupants, though Caroline had 
tried his best to be friendly even after all the things 
Welsley had done to him; however, Fred seemed too 
absorbed in his flying to be bothered with the negro. 

Suddenly as Welsley sent the plane into a deep 
swoop-turn towards the icy world below him to 
reassure himself that the cold would not bother its 
flying, one of the engines, without any previous 
signs of faltering burst into flames. 

"Didn't you check all the engines?" he screamed 
as he turned desperately towards Caroline, but 
before the poor engineer could reply the plane 
lurched terribly and began to lose altitude. Quickly 
Fred tried to get it under control and prepare for 
a crash landing. At the same time he sent out mess- 
ages for help over the transmitter, giving his where- 
abouts as exactly as he could. Then all of a sudden 
the plane gave another terrific lurch towards the 
ground and Fred, losing his balance, pitched for- 
ward and crashed his head against the control 
board. As his companion was knocked unconscious 
and the plane began hurtling towards the ice below, 
Caroline quickly grabbed the controls. Miraculously 
the young negro managed to get control of the 
plane, barely a hundred feet above ground, and 
with deft ability he landed it on a fairly smooth 
stretch of ice and brought it to a grinding stop. 
Then, even though he realized that the plane was 
about to burst into flames as one wing was already 
on fire, he stopped where Welsley lay crumpled on 
I he door and with all bis strength he lifted him up 
and leapt with the limp body out of the death trap 
just as it burst into lire, sending sparks flying out 
over the deserted snow fields. 

For a few minutes both bodies lay motionless 
in the cold snow, but presently Caroline, recovering 
consciousness, began to examine Fred as the latter 
lay groaning on the cold ground. Both bad suffered 
severe shock and were bruised and burnt, but they 
were in amazingly good condition considering the 
circumstances. Caroline luckily had strapped emer- 



gency provisions onto his hack before they had 
crashed and now wrapped both himself and his 
companion in warm blankets as they prepared to 
wait and pray for a rescue plane. 

For hours the two lay motionless neither saying 
very much as they were both in serious condition 
and knew that they had very little hope of rescue, 
even if their messages had got through, but the 
brave young engineer still tried to be helpful and 
encouraged his companion from time to time, as the 
latter began to lose his will to live. Then as Caro- 
line's eyes desperately swept the sky for the hun- 
dredth time, he suddenly spotted a dark speck, 
growing larger and larger against the blue back- 
ground. He rubbed his eyes over and over again, 
hardly believing what he saw, but sure enough it 
was a rescue plane. Excitedly Caroline turned to- 
wards Fred, but Welsley was once again uncon- 

The plane landed easily on the snow, as it had 
skis instead of wheels, and the half -dead airmen 
were lifted aboard and flown to the nearest hospital. 
It was over a week before Fred was able to realize 
what had happened to him and it took still another 
week of pleading before he was allowed to see his 
rescuer. Then the scene as the white pilot tried to 
express his gratitude and ask forgiveness of the 
man who had saved his life, can hardly be de- 
scribed. This same man, whom he had always heart- 
lessly scorned and thought of as unworthy to eat 
the crumbs from under his table, was now the ob- 
ject of his sincerest praise and thanks. 

After this accident, Fred's whole attitude to- 
wards negroes changed and Caroline became his 
greatest friend, but he never forgave himself for 
his former narrow-mindedness or forgot the fact 
that this negro risked his life to save a man who 
had always shown him nothing but hate and had 
made his first year in the airforce nothing but 
misery. Marian MacDougall, Matric. 


Everyone knew that the old house had been con- 
demned and that any minute of any hour of any day 
it might come crashing down. It was the coldest, 
bitterest time of winter and the roof of the old house 
sagged under its heavy burden of snow. We children 
knew something about the house that nobody else 
knew. Somebody or Something was in it, because 
from ail upper window, in the dead of night, a 
single candle threw its eerie glow into the darkness. 

Every night, one of six of the neighbourhood 
children (of which I was the youngest) stood watch 

to see if it was still there and if the candle still 
flickered in the window. It was clearly our duty to 
keep the THING inside the house, though it had 
never occurred to any of us what we would do if 
It should get out! Night after night there was a 
frozen and terrified little guard to watch as a dark, 
shapeless silhouette glided past the window. 

My turn had come and although it had taken a 
good bit of coaxing to convince Russ (a mature six- 
year-old) that I was capable of giving warning 
without letting It catch me if anything happened, 
I stood there rooted to the spot, a faint blur in the 
swirling snow and engulfing darkness. I had given 
up trying to convince myself that I was brave. I 
wanted more than anything to be out of sight, 
hearing, reach and remembrance of that horrid 
place. Suddenly the candle in the window flickered 
and went out. It was just too much for me. In a fit 
of terror I turned and fled. 

The six of us met at the appointed time the next 
night and set out with determination for the old 
house. Russ had decided that we must kill the 
THING. Having arrived there we tip-toed through 
vast, dust-smothered halls, all of us heavily armed 
with darning needles, kitchen knives, scissors, and 
whatever sharp, blunt or heavy instruments we 
could lay hands on. As the determined little figures 
filed up the stairs with Russ at their head, their 
hearts beat so loudly that each one was sure the 
sound could be heard all over the house. The leader 
was standing up admirably (though his lower lip 
trembled — just a little.) There at the top of the 
stairs stood the door of the room, black and awful. 
Slowly Russ turned the stiff door-knob. Then with 
a spurt of boldness he kicked the door open. 

There on the cot lay a dirty, unloved and untended 
body. As we drew nearer we realized that this must 
be a tramp whose life, in unison with the flickering 
candle, had been snuffed out by the cold and the 
wind. Scattered about the room were his few belong- 
ings — a pair of old shoes, a piece of stale bread, and 
a torn coat. That was all. A little copper crucifix, 
however, was clutched to his heart. It had been his 
last source of love and hope. He had, because of 
his lack of other things, found the one true source 
of peace, love, and hope which many others with 
years of "sweat and toil" had failed to find. All our 
fears vanished instantly, and solemnly we promised 
to keep silent and bury the body the following day. 

The old man never received even that one kind- 
ness, for early the following morning the old house 
collapsed, and the body was never found in the 
dusty, snow-covered ruins. 

Judy Perron, VI A. 




"Kevin has no mother; Kevin has no mother," 
chorused a group of small boys. 

"Your mother was always sick; she wasn't as 
pretty as my mother," boasted a rough-looking 

The small dark boy to whom these taunts were 
directed bit his lip, then threw himself upon his 
chief tormenter. The pair crashed to the ground, 
with the smaller form on top of the larger, who 
was sprawled in the dust helpless beneath the 
darting blows of his opponent. The school yard 
rang with the cheers of the on-lookers. Suddenly 
the Head Master, impressive in his black robes, 
swept through the ring of spectators and grabbed 
the culprits by their collars, dragging them apart. 

"What's going on here ?" he boomed. "Like fight- 
ing, eh? Well, I'll beat the fighting spirit out of 
you two," and he shoved the boys ahead of him 
up the flight of stone stairs that led to the form- 
idable brick school house. 

"Wow! Is Crandall ever going to catch it now!" 
murmured a fair-haired freckled lad. "I feel kinda 
sorry for him. I'd hate not to have a mother or 
any brothers or even sisters." 

"What's he always get so mad for when we tease 
him ?" asked another. "Guess he just can't take it." 

The group dispersed gradually and melted up 
the stairs into the building. A bell rang and a few 
late-comers darted into their places in the class- 
room. The teacher entered and the lesson began. 

Kevin Crandall leaned his sleek dark head on 
his sunburnt hand and gazed out of the window, 
a far-away smile on his small brown face, his large 
brown eyes dreamy. Then suddenly his brows 
cleared, he frowned, and the rapt look was gone. 
He clenched his fists and grit his teeth. He'd show 
them; he'd show them all. He straightened in his 
chair and glared pugnaciously around the room. 

It was dark when Kevin, clad in dirty blue jeans 
and torn tee shirt, scuffed his way up the front 
path to his house and, pulling a key from his pocket 
let himself in. It was dark and silent inside. He 
switched on the kitchen light and found a sandwich, 
a bottle of pop, and a banana sitting on the table 
with a note which read: "Your father will not be 
in until late. Eat your supper and don't be late 
going to bed.— Mrs. Ferguson." 

Kevin swallowed, and tears stung his eyes. It was 
hard for a nine-year-old to come home full of news 
to an empty house; not even Mrs. Ferguson, the 
housekeeper, was home. There was an empty feel- 
ing in him. Me had no one to love and (here was no 

one to love him, except his father, but he was always 
busy, hardly ever at home, and almost never there 
when Kevin was. The boy devoured the sandwich 
and banana, turned off the light and went up the 
long dark staircase to his little room. His foot- 
steps echoed in the empty house. 

As he put on the light Kevin noticed an envelope 
propped against the radio. He opened it, and fol- 
lowing the words with a grimy finger he read: 

"Hello Darling, 

"How are you ? I hope you are being a really 
good boy as you promised me you would be. Please 
always do everything that your Daddy tells you 
to, for even though he may be too busy to show it, 
he loves you very much, as I do. I understand how 
you feel, dear; it's natural and right that you should 
miss your dear mother so much and that you shoidd 
feel lonely and empty. But all the tears and long- 
ing in the world won't bring her back, pet. She's 
very happy where she is, in Paradise, and I know 
you would not want to make her sad by seeing 
you unhappy. So keep your chin up, darling, and 
I shall be down to see you as soon as possible. Be 
good and have fun. 

"All my love, 

Kevin folded the paper and laid it gently beside 
the lamp. He walked to the bedside and from be- 
neath the pillow drew a picture of a pretty dark 
lady. He studied it for a moment then returned it 
to its place and threw himself violently across the 
bed; the empty feeling filled him completely. He 
cried and cried until finally he slept. 

Late that evening a good-looking woman, chic in 
a slim black taffeta cocktail dress, entered the room. 
A mist of exotic perfume enfolded her as she knelt 
beside t ho bed. The moonlight made a halo of her 
blonde hair, and her pearls glowed as they caught 
the light. She gently removed the clothes from the 
sleeping child and slipped on the pyjamas she found 
in the cupboard. Turning down the covers, she 
gently laid him in the warm bed. 

Kevin lay sniffing the delicious scent, and listening 
to the rustling of her dress as she bent over him. He 
wriggled. He liked Meg; she had been a great friend 
of his mother's. He slowly opened his eyes and 
grmned. "Hi, Meg," he whispered. "Dad Home?" 

"Yes, Honey, we just got in. You fell asleep with 
all your clothes on, you silly boy," and she smiled. 
Her face lit up with love, and the boy felt we 
and tingly; the empty feeling had gone. 

"Gosh you're pretty, Meg," he said. 




She smiled, and as she bent down to kiss him 
good-night, Kevin put out his arms and hugged 
her affectionately. From the doorway Mr. Crandall 
smiled and sighed happily. Both their lives would 
be a little less empty of love from now on. 

Cynthia Hutchins, VI B. 


As I sat listening to a group of deep-sea divers 
tell tales of life under-water, I had a sudden desire 
to be a fish. I thought what it would be like to live 
deep clown in the splendour of an under-water 
palace. Then I found myself slowly changing into 
a brightly speckled trout with large spots and fins. 
I swam easily down, down to the dark world below. 
I got to the bottom and found myself among a 
group of fish, some large, some small, some speckled 
and others striped or plain. Making my way out 
of the throng I swam into a mass of water ferns 
and flowers, where I rested. 

Soon a friendly sunfish came up to me and said, 
"Would you like to come with me to explore a 
sunken ship over yonder?" 

I answered with an eager "Yes," and off we 
glided, making our way through tunnels and arch- 
ways until we came to a weather-beaten ship at 
the bottom. We swam onto it and explored it, but 
much to our disappointment we did not find any- 
thing that interested us. 

We were about to turn back and go where we 
had started from when Pinky, the sunfish, said, 
"Let us go up to the surface and have a sun-bath." 

Up, up, up we swam until we reached the surface 
of the clear blue water. The sun was shining and 
all was peaceful until suddenly we heard a tremen- 
dous splash and a huge fish appeared on the surface. 

"Oh," I cried, "who is it?" 

Pinky replied, "Come quickly; he is very danger- 
ous, and we must not let him catch us." 

With a sorrowful glance at the smiling sun we 
dived into the depth of the ocean, the monster at 
our tails. When we got to the bottom we wound in 
and out of the fungi and water creatures in hope 
of losing the monster, but with no success. Just as 
we were coming in sight of the destroyed ship I 
heard a terrified wail and looked behind to find 
Pinky's tail caught in the monster's mouth. The 
monster was moving toward Pinky's head, and bit 
by bit Pinky's body was disappearing into the 
mouth of the monster. 

Suddenly a sound startled me and I awoke to 
find that I had only been dreaming of being a fish. 

Elizabeth Angus, VI B. 


Out in the wings of the huge stage a young bal- 
lerina stood, nervously tightening the satin ribbons 
of her toe shoes. 

"Where is he?" she asked crossly. "Why isn't he 
here now ?" 

She was thinking of Antoine, the man who was to 
dance with her out on that wide stage in front of 
all those people. 

Suddenly he was beside her. "Do not be afraid, 
my little one," he whispered reassuringly; "you 
will be superb; you must be superb. Please do not 

She looked up at his worried face and laughed 
gently. "I have never been as calm in all my life." 

Her heart was beating furiously, though, and 
through her mind raced all the things she had ever 
been told, and everything that she could do wrong. 
She had to prove herself! This was her first appear- 
ance on the stage alone and she had to show what 
she could do. 

The orchestra had begun to play. She was to 
dance as she had never danced before! Her fright 
gone, she grasped Antoine's hand and together they 
looked out on the vast stage. The heavy gold cur- 
tain was rising! Suddenly they were on the stage. 
They twirled and leaped and floated together as 
one, unmindful of the audience that sat spellbound 
at their performance. The ballerina felt all the sor- 
row of Gisele as she forsook her lover and fled. 

As suddenly as the dance had begun it was over, 
and she was bowing and smiling to the audience 
as the clapping rose and fell in the waves of a huge 
ovation. She had never been so happy in all her life, 
someone was giving her flowers — 

"Get up, get up," a harsh voice called. 

Where was the stage and the audience and where 
were the flowers ? 

The voice continued, "Get up; it's nine o'clock 
and you have ballet class this morning!" 

She sat up, rubbing her sleep-filled eyes. She 
sighed and slipped out of bed. 

"My heart's desire," she whispered softly. 

Diana MacDougall, VI B. 





Thunder crashed in the skies like a howling ball 
striking nine pins, and jagged orange streaks ol 
lightning illuminated the night skies. There had 
never been a night like this in Northern Montana 
before. The rain fell down in torrents harder and 
harder, faster and faster, turning little streams into 
raging channels and muddy rivers into a deluge ol 
broken sticks and trees. Xo man could withstand 
the elements on a night like this, no man and — 
no horse. 

A solitary figure trudged through the storm, a 
little boy. Over his back hung a half filled sack of 
stones that he had been collecting along the river 
bed. His manner of walking showed that he was 
lost and the pitiful expression on his face showed 
that he was very badly frightened. Two big brown 
eyes looked pleadingly into the storm, speaking 
when his quivering lips could not. 

"Where are Mummy and Daddy? I want them 
awfully badly — please where're Mummy and 

Only the storm answered with grumbles and 
growls and groans, bringing more rain and more 

Suddenly a big pine crashed to the ground just 
behind him, the force of the branches knocking him 
down. He lay in the mud, very still, just a little 
crumpled form, while a stream of tears trickled 
down his cheeks. Gathering his remaining strength 
he lifted himself until he stood upright, his once 
curly brown hair wetly clinging to his head. Step 
by step he fought the storm until he stopped before 
an enormous wall of stone rising above him. It 
was very gray and obscure in the night, hut (he 
big rocks could offer him a shelter until I he rain 
stopped and Mummy came. Climbing over some 
fallen rocks bordering the wall, he suddenly stopp- 
ed. There in front of him loomed the mouth of a 
big cave. It offered an inkling of hope, and maybe 
that is where Mummy and Daddy were. Slowly, 
hesitatingly, he stumbled towards it, until he stood 
at the entrance and peered in. A thick layer of dirt 
covered the floor and it looked soft — oh so very 
soft. Curling up just inside he closed his eyes and 
tried to sleep. Suddenly a noise and a, scuffle of feet 
echoed from wall to wall. The child jumped up and 
ran towards the sound, sure that it was Mummy 
and Daddy coming to save him and take him away 
from this horrible night. But it was not Mummy or 
Daddy; it was a big chestnut stallion which had 
also come to the cave for shelter. The stallion stood 

therewith flicking ears, eyeing the little figure stumb- 
ling towards him, his big muscles quivering, his 
whole body stiff, not knowing whether to run from 
oi' fight this object, this man-cub. But he didn't 
do either when the little creature touched him and 
cried out to him. He just stood there very quietly, 
a king in all his beauty, for the first time letting 
himself be touched, and listening tentatively to the 
faltering voice. The two stood for a long time until 
at last the stallion led the child out of the cave and 
into the raging storm. Over fallen trees and brack- 
en he led him, his huge body protecting the boy 
from the rain, his animal instinct guiding him where 
he wanted to go. An hour passed, and then two, and 
soon the pair stopped before a desolate house 
nestled on a slope high above the flood line. The 
child, seeing a light through the window rushed to 
the door and beat his fists on it with all his might. 
The stallion stood in the background watching, 
waiting. Suddenly the door opened, casting a line 
of light across the ground onto the boy and the 

A woman's voice exclaimed, "Why, that's Mrs. 
Potter's Danny. What 'nearth is the 'ittle lad doin' 
out et this taime o' the night? Look at thet horse 
too! Brad, quick, bring a halter fer h — " 

But she didn't finish her sentence. As the child 
and woman gazed at the stallion he whistled a 
warning scream, and whirling around disappeared 
into the darkness, the sound of his hoofbeats dying 
into the night air. 

Susan Blackburn, VI A. 


i esterday was winter in her roughest mood. The 
blustering wind sent stinging clouds of snow against 
any obstacle in its path. The enormous heavy flakes 

oent to the ground the heads of the discouraged 
trees. The pure white drifts piling steadily up seem- 
ed to cut on., off from tin- rest of the world and to 
accentuate the coldness of the day, while the great 
power ol the snow made one feel very small. Yester- 
day wa ,s indeed a day I shall never forget, as it 
showed me the power and enormous capacity of 


Ruth Peverley, V A. 



It was Spring. The birds sat on the branches of 
the newly blossoming trees and warbled happily. 
The flowers were poking their heads out of the 
fresh moist earth to look at the cloudless blue sky, 
and the young breeze skipped merrily through the 
new-born leaves which waved and rustled ever so 

Gretchen Richards, who lived in a large white 
house in the country, sat at her bedroom window 
and listened to this lovely symphony that Nature 
had composed. She loved music! She could sit still 
for hours on end and just listen and listen to beauti- 
ful music. She had once said to her mother, "You 
know, Mum, I don't think I could bear to live if 
I couldn't hear." 

Tomorrow was Gretchen's birthday. She would 
be fourteen. Her parents, although not very well 
off, had promised to give her a complete record set 
of the ballet "Swan Lake." She had heard it on the 
radio many times and knew it by heart but was 
longing to own the records herself. Tomorrow they 
would be hers! 

As she sat there by her window, she heard a voice 
call to her from the garden below. "Hurry up, 
Gretchen! It's ten o'clock." 

"Coming Derek," she called back. 

Derek was her sixteen-year-old-brother, a tall 
handsome boy with dark brown hair that had a bad 
habit of falling over his forehead. Living out in 
the country, as they did, they had made a habit 
of going fishing every Saturday morning. This 
morning they planned to try a new place — Eagle 
Rapids where there were stepping stones from 
which one could fish. 

"Have you our lunch with you, Derek?" she 
teased, as the large hamper was in plain sight. 

"No," replied her brother, "it is full of worms!" 

Then he picked up the hamper and they set off. 
Ten minutes later, they arrived at the rapids. One 
hour later Derek had caught two fish and Gretchen 

"I'm going to try fishing from the stepping 
stones," yelled Gretchen above the roar of the 

"All right, but be careful; I want you to stay in 
one piece!" 

"Don't worry about me, my good man, I can 
take care of myself!" 

For a minute Derek sat on the bank and watched 
her. He was lucky to have this tall, slim, good- 
natured girl for his sister. Her long black hair was 
lying in wet curls against her red blouse and he 
watched her as she skipped nimbly from stone to 

^jj^Vjj^H^L L , COMPTON 

stone Just then she slipped and pitched forward 
in the churning water. She screamed! Derek rushed 
over the stones and grabbed at the piece of red 
which was all he could see. He carefully hoisted her 
up onto his shoulders and made his way to the 
shore, then headed home. 

When (iretchen awoke two hours later, she found 
herself in her own bed. Everything was so quiet; 
even her mother's skirt did not rustle when she 
walked across the room to Gretchen's bed. 

"Hello, Mum," she said weakly. 

"Gretchen, darling! Are you feeling all right?" 

"Why doesn't she answer me ?" thought Gretchen 

to herself. 

She opened her eyes wide and looked at her 
mother, noticing that her mouth was moving- 
she was speaking! With a huge sob that shook 
her whole body, she threw herself into her mother's 
arms and sobbed incoherently. 

"I can. can't hear! I. . Ican't h. hear!" 

Mrs. Richards drew her closer and waited for 
the sobbing to subside. It seemed to her as if she 
were holding her little baby who had just received 
its first real injection and is both hurt and angry 
and takes out this resentment by making the loud- 
est possible noise. She could say nothing to comfort 
her child this time as her words woidd not be heard. 
She rocked back and forth very slowly and soon 
Gretchen fell into an exhausted sleep. 

That night the doctor from the city arrived. 
Gretchen's worried parents faced him, their anxiety 
standing out in their eyes. 

"Will she be all right ? Will she ever hear again ?" 
The questions tumbled out one after another. 

The kindly doctor faced them and in a gentle 
tone tried to explain what had happened. 

"Your daughter has a rare kind of deafness. 
Judging from what you have told me about her 
accident, I'm convinced that it is shock that is the 
cause. If I went into technical terms I'm afraid you 
would not understand so I'll tell you simply. I 
don't know how long she will remain deaf. It might 
be only a few hours, or days, or perhaps months 
before she will hear again. I cannot say how long 
her awakening to the sounds of this world will be. 
I suggest that she learn to lip-read and try to live a 
perfectly normal life. It will be hard for her at first, 
but she must try. I shall consult Dr. Hoetzer and 
see if he will be willing to perform an operation on 
your daughter. He has specialized in deafness ever 
since his wife went deaf and committed suicide 
because of it. I'll lot you know when I learn his 
answer. Good-bye, and don't hesitate to call me 
if anything should happen." 



The days dragged by for Gretchen. She had had 
a miserable soundless birthday with only notes to 
read instead of hearing all the familiar sounds and 
voices she so longed to hear — and her music! Her 
"Swan Lake" which she had wanted for so long and 
couldn't even hear now that she had it! 

Saturday came, but despite Derek's pleas to go 
fishing at their usual quiet stream, Gretchen would 
not budge from the house. She had started taking 
lessons in lip-reading and was coming along very 
well indeed. 

The next morning she refused to go to Church 
with her parents. "What's the use," she had said. 
"I can't hear anything!" 

When she had seen them drive off in the family 
car, she ran to her room, threw herself on her bed 
and cried until she thought she would burst. "Oh 
Father," she said, "please let me hear again. I 
don't mean to be selfish because I do think of all the 
other deaf people and pray for them too, but I'm 
so miserable! You have the power to help me, 
Father, oh please do!" 

She played checkers with Derek that afternoon 
and then helped him practise baseball in the back- 
yard. She wanted him to be on his school team as 
much as he did. 

She tumbled into bed at ten o'clock that night, 
dead tired, but slept fitfully. A few hours later she 
woke up suddenly and sat up with a start. Was 
she imagining things or Avas it true? No. Wait! 
There it was again! And again! — an owl's doleful 
cry. She leaped out of bed and tore into her parents' 
room, noticing every little sound — the thump on 
the floor as she jumped out of bed, the patter of her 
feet along the hall, her parents' soft steady breathing 
and then when she bounced on their bed, the fright- 
ened cry of her mother. 

"Gretchen! Darling! Is anything wrong?" 

"No, no, Mum, Dad, I can hear again. I dreamed 
that I heard an owl hoot — and then I up — I mean 
I woke up and it was real! Please may I go down- 
stairs and listen to my record?" 

"Certainly darling, we'll come with you. Daddy 
will go and wake Derek and we'll all celebrate your 
birthday again!" 

The following day Mrs. Richards phoned the 
doctor and told him the good news. He also had 
some good news. Dr. Hoetzer had agreed to perform 
the operation — he would give the details later. 

Gretchen knew that she might be deaf again but 
said matter-of-factly to herself, "Even though I 
may never be completely cured I know I'll be able 
to look forward to these rare moments. 

Jane Douglas Lane, Matric. 


A little while ago I received a letter from my 
sister Elizabeth, asking me if I would look after 
Peter while she and John, her husband, went to 
Bermuda for a month. Although I have never been 
fond of children I felt it my duty to take care of him. 

The day before his arrival I admit I was a little 
nervous, never having had any experience with 
children. Martha, my maid, gave the house a thor- 
ough cleaning while I baked cookies, cakes, and 
other things I imagined children liked. We con- 
verted the spare room into a playroom and even 
tried to put up a swing in the backyard. 

The next day I waited anxiously for the time he 
was to arrive, occasionally giving the house finish- 
ing touches. Any guest of mine was going to be 
treated hospitably — even if he was only a child. 

At last the doorbell rang! I hurried to the door 
and opened it. "Do come — but where is the boy?" 

Standing in front of me were PClizabeth, John, 
and a big German Shepherd dog, but no Peter. 

Liz and John look at each other and started 
shaking with laughter. 

"Didn't you know that Peter is a dog? Jeff is the 
boy; he is sitting in the car." 

Joan Cordeau, V A. 


That misty day in January was the best time of 
the year to visit Killarny. I can remember my 
amazement as my eyes wandered over the singular 
scene. Scattered here and there in the blue-grey 
sky were ash-coloured clouds, while below lay the 
heather-clad hills of Killarny. There were bare, 
rugged rocks surrounded by tufts of tall faded 
grass, bits of bottle-green lichen, and masses and 
masses of purple heather. Gushing through one 
mauve, rocky hillside flowed a miniature waterfall 
into a broad stream below. Glistening waves of 
icy-cold water gurgled over the stones of a partly 
demolished, crescent-shaped bridge. The river went 
bubbling on while the bridge led to a pebble-covered 
road bordered by mauve heather. At the bend of 
the road I saw a typical Irish country cottage with 
weather-beaten walls and a clumsy-looking thatched 
roof. The cottage was partly concealed among the 
heather and the rising mist. From its lop-sided chim- 
ney rose a curl of smoke mingling with the haze and 
the passing clouds. Beyond this I could see no 
more. Gathering up my coat and lunch-box I con- 
tinued on my way — over the old stone bridge, 
past the little cottage and around the bend to more 

Cynthia Bailey, VI B. 




Does anyone ever really enjoy running away? I 
certainly don't think so, but I remember when I 
was five and a half years old I vowed I would run 
away from home and never come back. The idea 
started one morning when I wasn't allowed to wear 
my new party dress to school. 

I remember thinking, "What are party dresses for 
if you can't even wear them to school to show every- 
one ?" 

Then numerous thoughts beseiged me. Why are 
mothers so nasty about whether you eat all your 
food? Why are baths so necessary, and why do 
people insist that you have them just as you are 
starting an exciting game? As I could find no poss- 
ible answer to these questions I decided without 
hesitation that the only solution would be to run 
away. Perhaps I could find a place where big people 
didn't tell you what to do, or perhaps there might 
even be a place with no grown-ups at all. I contem- 
plated allowing Maisie, my older sister, to come 
with me, but I decided that even she was too old, 
and besides she had once even laughed at the idea 
that she and I should run away together. Of course 
I was only little then and had got scared before I 
had got even out the door, but this time I was really 
running away. I was going to make Mummy and 
Daddy sorry that they had been so mean to me and 
perhaps some flay 1 woidd visit them when they 
were very old and say I forgave them. Then they 
wouldn't die with guilty consciences. Thus on June 
the second, nineteen hundred and forty-four, I left 
home never to return. 

I walked boldly down Summerhill Avenue, tilled 
with new ideas and the hatred of bossy parents. I 
carried Georgina, my koala bear, because Mummy 
had once said that Georgina would have to go out 
for she was losing her stuffing all over the house. 
Imagine wanting to throw out Georgina! I could 
never let that happen, and so Georgina was coming 
with me to a land where no one would want to 
throw her away. I decided to go and say good-bye 
to Jimmy the organ-grinder, who always played at 
the corner of Guy and St. Catherine Streets. Jimmy 
wasn't like other grown-ups; lie didn't tell you what 
to do and he always let me play with his monkey 
Pedro — that is, when Mummy wasn't with me. 
Yes, Jimmy was very nice, hut for some unknown 
reason Mummy never let me speak to him. Maybe 
it was because he had only one leg, or perhaps 
because his face was dirty — I don't know — but 1 
did know that I liked Jimmy and that he was the 
only person to whom I wanted to say good-bye. 

I started down Guy Street, but a new feeling was 
rising in me. a scared panicky feeling which I could 
only push down with the knowledge that I was 
never going to be bossed again. Just the same I 
began walking more slowly and looking around me 
with bewilderment. I had never been out of our own 
street without a big person before, and now all I 
had to protect me was Georgina. Suppose some man 
came and took Georgina from me! Then I would 
be all alone! By the time I came to Sherbrooke 
Street I could no longer drive that panicky feeling 
away, but still I kept walking, with my eyes staring 
ahead of me. My head started to swim and the 
people rushing before my eyes became a blur, but 
still I trudged on, the panic choking me. I wanted 
desperately to turn around and dash back home, 
but then Maisie would laugh and ask me why I 
hadn't kept on ^oing. Instead I started to run in 
the opposite direction. I ran wildly, the tears stream- 
ing from my eyes blinding me so much I couldn't 
see where I was going, but I had to run, for some 
unknown reason. Poor Georgina was being dragged 
by the leg, her once shiny black nose scratched and 
dusty from being bumped along the pavement. 
Suddenly I crashed into some big man, and trem- 
bling with fear looked up — into Daddy's face. Why 
had I ever wanted to Leave Daddy and Mummy? 
I must have been crazy to want to run away. Now 
all fear left me and pleasant relief took its place, 
weakening me so much that I collapsed into Daddy's 
strong aims, to be driven home, never to leave it 

Barbara Fellowes, Matric. 


When I walked down the little dirt road which 
1 had done so often I looked over the hills and 
wondered how nature could do so much in such a 
short time. The rolling velvet green carpet which 
had been there only yesterday was now a blanket 
of soft white lace. The mass of scarlet which had 
been dotted with yellow, green, and brown was now 
nothing but a. collection of black arms surrounded 
with white. The golden fields now appeared a won- 
der land of snow, and the little mice, birds, and 
insects had hidden themselves from "Jack Frost." 
I stood for a moment, and marvelled at "Mother 
Nature's" ways. 

Mary Warren, V A. 

- -■*$ 



Linda scribbled absently on her ballet portrait. 
Oh, how wonderful it would be to be able to dance 
in a soft, delicate pink costume and fly through the 
air! She glanced sadly from her crippled legs to the 
ballet dancer she had drawn, and her gaze then 
drifted out the window to the sunny outdoors and 
the children playing on the lawn. 

Suddenly the lawn turned into a lush green stage; 
the children became the audience, and the trees the 
misty, enchanting background. In the midst of this 
splendour a figure in cloudy white twirled and jump- 
ed gracefully to the mysterious music that seemed 
to come from nowhere. Linda caught her breath in 
admiration and awe. Each time the dancer flashed 
by she came nearer and nearer until she was stand- 
ing beside Linda. She was very petite, with large 
doleful eyes, long black tresses wound around her 
head, and a long slender figure very like Linda's. 
Linda gazed at her as a distant roar of praise 
and approval came from the audience. 

"What is your name ?" asked the dancer, her eyes 
shining like stars. 

Linda gasped in surprise, for the little dancer 
was addressing her. 

"Linda," she replied in a tiny voice. "Your dance 
was lovely." She gained courage. "I wish I could 
do it like you." 

"Perhaps you can; would you like to try it right 
now?" the dancer asked coaxingly. 

"Oh, yes, yes!" replied Linda earnestly, but then 
she cast down her eyes as she remembered her 

But the dancer only nodded her head and said 
gently, "Dance, Linda." 

Linda whirled out onto the soft green carpet. Her 
eyes were full of happiness, her face beaming with 
joy. But then! Oh, dear! Something dreadful hap- 
pened. She tripped over her feet and fell. The audi- 
ence rocked with laughter at the change of events 
and clapped in mockery. Large tears of hot indig- 
nation rolled down Linda's pale cheeks as she limped 
off the stage on her crutches — crutches that some- 
how had been returned to her. 

"Why did you let me dance and fall?" Linda 
questioned in disbelief. 

"Because I had to show you that it is no use 
dreaming of something you can never do, and ne- 
glecting your other talent," replied the dancer wip- 
ing away Linda's tears. "You are an artist and 
are doing wonders for the little sick girl next door. 
Some day you will be a great painter of ballet pic- 


tures and because you love dancing you will give 
joy to others through your paintings." 

"Linda, have you finished your ballet girl yet? 
Lunch is ready!" 

It was the voice of dear mother, who awoke Linda 
from her day-dream. Was it a day-dream? The 
lovely dancer who was not unlike Linda, who was, 
in fact, Linda herself, had seemed so alive! Yet, 
when Linda looked out the open window, the dancer, 
the green stage, and the audience had all vanished. 
The sun was pouring in through the window onto 
her picture of the ballet girl. Yes, it was true; she 
would be an artist and give joy to the sick girl next 
door and to others by her talent for drawing bal- 

Gillian Bastian, VI B. 


It was dusk on a deserted street. A little girl was 
pressing her turned-up nose against the window- 
pane of a toy shop. Her dress was torn and patched 
and her feet were bare and dirty. The big doll in 
the window fascinated her, but she knew she could 
never do any more than look at it. A gang of rough- 
looking boys came by and stopped to laugh at her 
and tantalize her. The stones they threw stung her 

When the boys had passed, the little girl turned 
back to the doll with the tears streaming down her 
cheeks, but the store lights were out by then, and 
the doll was no longer visible. At that moment the 
door opened and a well-dressed, idee looking man 
stepped out into the street. He had noticed the little 
girl all afternoon peering into his window. Now he 
walked over to her but she had shied away. 

"Don't be afraid, little girl," he said. "What is 
the matter?" 

She stood and stared for a few minutes, then she 
ran and put her arms around him. 

"I want that dolly," she sobbed, pointing with 
a stubby little linger at her idol. 

He lifted her up and grinned at her. "Well, we'll 
see what we can do about that," 

Still carrying her he unlocked the door and took 
her inside. 

"Is this the one you want?" he asked. 

"Oh, yes," she cried happily, with eyes as large 
as saucers. 

He locked the door again and took the little girl 
home. She skipped along with one hand in the man's 
big one and the other hand clutching the doll. 

Carol Gikbs, V A. 




Tim Summers was humming as he walked to the 
office that morning — that fateful morning of April 
first. Why was he humming? I don't suppose he 
knew except that the morning was sunny, sort of 
pinkish, and had all the freshness of that time of 
day. The delicate shades of early spring were all 
around him — the pale green of the tiny leaves, the 
pale blue of the sky, the pale pink of the sunlight, 
and the gold tinges of the clouds. Tim felt alto- 
gether too carefree to be walking to work. 

As he emerged from the winding lane and pro- 
ceeded into the town he glanced as usual at the 
post office clock on the corner of Killarney Road. 

"I'm early this morning," he thought. "It's only 
eight-ten. Now I won't have to rush." 

Anybody passing Tim Summers on the street 
would have thought him only about nineteen or 
twenty. Tall and lanky, with his blonde crew-cut, 
dark tan, and hazel eyes, he seemed almost like a 
college boy instead of a salary-earning fellow of 
twenty-five. He walked in an easy, loose-jointed 
manner, apparently interested in what was happen- 
ing around him, although really oblivious of every- 
thing but his humming. He turned the corner at 
Water Avenue, walked briskly for the last two 
blocks, entered a building impressive with a curved 
facade, and pushed the elevator button. 

"Five, please," he said when the elevator arrived, 
and "thank you," when it stopped. 

He hurried into the office anteroom, through the 
many-panelled oak door, and into his own office. 

On the way he passed Mrs. Dale, a tiny woman 
with salt-and-pepper hair and silver-rimmed glasses, 
who looked up at him with a cheery "Good morn- 
ing, Mr. Summers. Lovely day, isn't it?" 

"It certainly is," replied Tim, edging into his 

Once there he sat down at the desk and pulling 
a sheaf of papers out of the top drawer he shuffled 
through them in search of one in particular. No 
sooner had he found it and begun to read it than 
Mr. Muggins' voice came over the inter-com. 

"Summers, will you come in here immediately?" 

"Yes, Sir," answered Tim and flicked the switch 
to the "off" position. 

Tim chortled with glee whenever he thought of 
Mr. Muggins, Mr. Percival Launcelot Muggins, 
to be absolutely accurate. He chortled now as he 
unfolded his lean frame from the chair, and scoop- 
ing a pencil from the desk, made his way to the 
President's office. 

"What do you mean by coming in here at this 
hour?" demanded Mr. Muggins. 

" I thought I was early, Sir — " 

"Well, you're not. It is now nine-twenty-five, 
and you are supposed to lie at work at nine. I'd hate 
to think what would become of this place if every- 
one ambled in late." 

Tim merely said, "I'm sorry, Sir, and it won't 
happen again," and backed up a pace. 

"Come here," growled the President, pointing a 
skinny finger at a spot on the floor about a yard 
from his pointed black pump. "I haven't finished 
with you yet, young man. Just where is the draft 
of the Bartlett report?" 

"I — I was finishing it when you called me in 
here," said Tony. 

At that moment the telephone rang, and the 
buzzer in Mr. Muggins' office sounded. 

"Yes," rasped Mr. Muggins' voice into the receiv- 
er. Then, "Oh, yes, Mabel. I'll be home at exactly 
six o'clock — bring a friend? Mabel, are you feeling 
well ? — That's good; I was getting worried. — Who? 
— Oh, him! Yes, he's in my office now. Just a mo- 
ment." Turning around, "Tim, could you come for 

"I'd love to, Sir, but I have a date." 

"He has a date to-night, Mabel — " Putting his 
hand over the mouthpiece, "Who is she, Tim?" 

"Kathy— Kathleen O'Neil." 

"Kathleen O'Neil, Mabel— you know, that 
sweet Irish girl who lives on York Drive. Pardon ? 
— If it's all right with Tim — Tim, bring her along. — 
Well, we'll be home about six-fifteen, dear. — Thank 
you. — Good bye," and Mr. Muggins put down the 

"Now, as to that report, Summers, get it finished 
and in here in fifteen minutes!" 

"Yes, Sir, and thank you." 

Tim finished the report in record time and went 
to the President's office with it. As Mr. Muggins 
was in a better mood he was pleased, and Tim 
turned and left. He noticed how quickly the day 
passed and how soon it was four o'clock. Tim tel- 
ephoned Kathy to tell their destination for the 
evening. After that he busied himself with filing 
for about ten minutes, asked Mr. Muggins if there 
was anything else he could do, and since there 
wasn't he walked home. The clock in the post 
office tower said hve-seventeen as he passed it. He 
proceeded into the lane but was stopped very short- 
ly by a small dark boy with jet black hair and a 
grin as wide as his sunny face. 

"Senore?" he queried. 

"Si ?" answered Tim unthinkingly. I mean "Yes." 

"Do you know what time eet ees?" asked the 



"Seventeen minutes past five," responded Tim. 

"No. Senore, you are wrong," in a sing-sung, "Eet 
ees quarter to seex." 

"No, it isn't," said Tim. 

"Si," insisted the boy. 

"All right, if you say so. By the way, I've seen 
you before. What's your name?" 

"Tony. Tony Garcia," and the boy's wide grin 
flashed again. 

"I'm Tim Summers, Tony. Glad to know you. 
Why do you insist that the clock is wrong?" 

"Because I climbed up and set eet wrong this 
morning, Senore. Eet ees April one, you know." 

"So it is," muttered Tim. Suddenly he started. 
Tony had said, "Quarter to six," and Tim was 
supposed to be calling for Kathy now. 

He mumbled something in the general direction 
of Tony and sprinted the last block home. He 
washed and changed more quickly than he had ever 
done before and telephoned Kathleen to say he'd 
lie right over. He rushed to Kathy 's home and as 
they hurried to the Muggins' Tim breathed explan- 
ations. They were both panting so hard when they 
arrived that Mrs. Muggins commented on the fact. 
Tim hastily explained Tony's little trick, and as 
Mr. Muggins appeared he heard it too and realized 
why Tim had been late for work. After he had 
forgiven Tim they sat down to a most enjoyable 

At ten-thirty Tim and Kathy decided that they 
had better go, and after warm "thank yous" and 
"good-byes" they tepped out into the brisk evening 
air. Tim wondered why the pale moonlight shim- 
mered so on Kathy's dark hair and why her azure 
eyes were so much larger than usual. She looked 
like a vision. 

Suddenly he was awakened from his reverie as 
Kathy said, "Tim, is it right now?" 

"Wha— ? Oh, the clock! Perhaps if is, perhaps 
it isn't," he whispered. "I don't know." 

"Si, Signore, eet ees right now," answered a voice 
behind them. 

"Tony, you should be at home in bed!" 

"I know, Signore, but I had to tell you, so I snuck 
out. Now you will have more time to walk the 
Senorita home. Good-bye." He yawned. 

"Cute little fyke," said Kathy admiringly. "His 
language is certainly unique and his sense of time 
is all wrong. We'll have to rush now," and she 
stopped talking. "Listen!" 

As Tim grasped her hand they heard the sleepy 
voice of Tony, "Goo' night, — Teem." 

Robin Fitzgerald, Matric. 


She paused for a moment at the top of the cliff, 
a lonely figure, silhouetted against the moon as it 
reappeared suddenly. Placing her feet apart, she 
braced her body as if in defiance of the lashing 
wind. Her long hair blew behind her wildly and her 
skirt pressed tightly against her legs. She could 
feel the stinging spray of the sea on her face and 
taste the salt on her lips. As suddenly as it had 
appeared the moon vanished again behind a dark 
black cloud. With a sharp cry, she spun around 
quickly and ran down the path to the bottom of 
the cliff. There, on one of the rocks, she flung her- 
self down and wept bitterly. 

It seemed as though the angry waves of the sea 
beating against the rocks, sending shafts of white 
spray high into the air, expressed all the pent-up 
emotions that swept through the girl's body. Her 
shoulders shook convulsively and she beat her fists 
again and again on the rock as though to make it 
feel part of the pain and anguish she was bearing. 
Then, as her sobbing subsided, she lay exhausted 
on the rock, gasping for breath. The seahad drenched 
her completely, making her clothes cling to her 
body and her hair lie in damp strands along her 
flushed cheeks. In her dark brown eyes was nothing 
but the look of complete and utter defeat. 

"I can't go on any longer!" she cried aloud to 
the echoing cliffs. As though the sound of her voice 
had released some inner spring in her, the details 
of all the past unpleasantness returned to her. 

She had lived a quiet and simple life in the German 
countryside with her parents. Then one unhappy 
day, they had both perished in a fire. Left to fend 
for herself, she had gone to a village several miles 
away where she had tried to find a job in which 
she might put to use her exceptional talent for writ- 
ing. To her bitter amazement, she had been turned 
away from job after job with always the same 
excuse, either directly or indirectly — "I'm sorry, 
hut we don't accept Jewish people here." Hurt and 
bewildered, she had found employment in a third- 
rate hotel, waiting on tables. 

In every spare moment she had sat down to 
write and write. Then, almost as if by magic, she 
would l>e transported from the squalor with which 
she had been surrounded to another world, a world 
of love and peace. She had known her writing was 
good; she was gifted with that special inner sight 
that could tell. If only she could have one of her 
stories published! 

One bitter day, however, the owner of the hotel 
had told he,- that she was fired. She had not even 



bothered to ask why — she had known. If only she 
were not Jewish! The problem at this point had 
been what she should do now ? At last she had made 
her decision. Since life was not worth living any- 
more, she would simply end it. She had walked 
the full two miles to the sea. When she had finally 
reached there, the very wildness of the pounding 
waves had disturbed her deeply, and for a brief 
moment she had lost control of her senses. 

As her mind came back to the present, she gri- 
maced inwardly and tried to find within herself 
the courage to end her life. She gazed out at the 
sea and watched it churning, wave upon wave, 
dashing against the cliffs. Suddenly though, the 
churning lessened and the white-crested waves came 
more and more slowly. Within a short while the 
sea was almost calm. It was as though a miracle 
had happened. To the girl's amazement, her mind 
too had mysteriously calmed, and now she could 
think clearly. For the first time in a long, long while 
she faced reality and all that went with it. 

"I'm Jewish, and I must face the fact," she rea- 
soned with herself, "but that's nothing to be asham- 
ed of. Why should I let people walk all over me ? I 
must fight hack! With my writing — that's it! I can 
fight back with my writing! — But how! — I'm not 
quite sure, but I'll find a way — I know I'll be able 
to. First of all, I'll — " and her mind bubbled over 
with plans for the future. 

She arose from the rock and shivered slightly as 
for the first time she felt the dampness of her clothes 
and body. As she walked back up the path, not only 
the peace and calmness of the sea were in her heart, 
but also the very strength and power that was the sea 
itself became a part of her. With a light step, head 
held high, she returned to she knew not what, but 
she returned bravely. 

Barbara Kerr, Matric. 


We gazed in wonder at the four massive arches 
curving over our heads, which formed the base of 
the Eiffel Tower. So this was Paris on a hot summer 
day, with flocks of laughing chattering people 
crowding the sidewalk cafes and parks and motor 
bikes roaring through the streets in great haste. 
American tourists rushed about taking pictures 
and small old Frenchmen stood on busy corners 
selling souvenirs. French women went about their 
way in brightly coloured summer dresses, while 
noisy children fed pigeons in the street. Suddenly 
we found that it was our turn to climb into the 
glassed-in elevator which would take us to the top 

of the tower. As we rose slowly, higher and higher 
between the great steel beams, the din and turmoil 
of the street below were left behind and a lovely 
quiet ensued. After changing elevators twice, we 
arrived at the top of the 'nine hundred foot' struc- 
ture looking down on this famous French capital. 
The white streets lined with tall green trees, wave 
their way between historic buildings such as the 
dome-topped Les Invalides where Napoleon is 
buried, and the Louvre, now an art gallery but 
formerly the home of many French kings. There 
was the Champs Elysce leading down the Arc de 
Triomphe where the unknown soldier lies, and the 
Tuilleries, a large park next to the Louvre with its 
miniature Arc de Triomphe called Carousel. The 
Seine glittered in the sunlight like a silver ribbon, 
and along its banks we could see the towers of 
Notre Dame Cathedral reaching skyward. Back- 
ing up this picture was Montmartre, perhaps the 
oldest section of Paris, which, with its dark narrow 
streets and small cafes was the favourite haunt of 
artists. The last thing which caught our eye was the 
tiny church, Sacre Coeur, standing on the very top 
of Montmartre, looking over the city. Then slowly 
the elevator brought us back to the real Paris — 
the Paris which one can smell, hear, feel and be a 
part of instead of an isolated bystander beholding 
it all from above. 

Flora Church, VI A. 


(One of the speeches given at the King's 
Hall Public Speaking Contest.) 

How many of you have ever sailed down the St. 
Lawrence River ? If so, did you ever wonder what 
the brilliant patches of light on the North Shore 
of the river, about a hundred miles below Quebec, 
represented ? Perhaps you did not know what was 
behind them, or perhaps you thought they were 
little communities pitched by some unknown hand 
in a singularly desolate country. Since this land 
used to be my home I should like to tell you some- 
thing about the people who live there, their towns 
and their homes. 

When asked once why I liked this isolated coun- 
try T took a while to think about it. What I first 
thought of were the mountains and forests, be- 
cause I had had so much fun in them hiking, skiing. 
and cooking outdoors in all seasons. It is the many 
small things all taken together that make this place 
so fascinating — for instance, the windows in winter, 
covered with frost and ice. 


Somebody may say, "Oh, how horrible! You can 
never see out unless you open the door and then 
you are turned to frost and ice." 

But one may think of it in a different way. I have 
spent many minutes studying window-panes deco- 
rated by the frost, I could always pick out what- 
ever pictures I wished — mountains and valleys, 
rivers and waterfalls, or even the towers and palaces 
of London. Something else that will absorb you in 
the same way are snowflakes. You can never find 
any two alike; they are always marvellously intri- 
cate in pattern. 

The forest itself casts a spell over one. In winter 
it is as silent as a graveyard, except for the soft thud 
of snow in a storm or the distant cry of a bird. No 
matter where you go or how far, you will always 
leave a trail behind you. A winter forest fills you 
with a peaceful contentment as you gaze from a 
hilltop over a vast expanse of green and sunflecked 
white. In summer the spell is quite different. Far 
from leaving a trail behind you, you can vanish 
completely from sight in just a few seconds. As the 
forest closes around you the odour of spruce and of 
balsam-gum fills you with a tingling excitement 
that wants to send you racing through the trees 
shouting for joy at just being alive. 

This part of Canada presents a challenge to people, 
though it is only in the last quarter-century that 
the challenge of settling it has been accepted. The 
country has many finalities that deter man from 
coming here to make his home. In summer there is 
the danger of poisoning from mosquitoes and black- 
flies as well as the annoyance of their teasing per- 
secution. Much more serious is the hazard that 
forest fires bring to those working in the woods. 
Many families spend the whole summer in anxiety 
over fathers, brothers, or husbands. In winter there 
is bitter cold and the danger of a snowstorm obliter- 
ating your path in the forest and leaving you to 
a cold and lonely death. Lastly, and what affects 
many people, is the difficulty and expense of trans- 
portation in and out, especially in winter, when we 
are practically isolated. All these challenges can be 
met, however, and the difficulties overcome. 

One must remember, too ,that the towns although 
on the very borders of the wilderness, form a strik- 
ing contrast to its savage wildness. The towns are 
highly electrified and have the latest modern con- 
veniences. The more advanced towns, like Baie 
Comeau, "the Star of the North," have paved 
streets, a modern mill, telephones, radios and tel- 
evision. Rest of all these towns have no poverty 
filth, or slums. Their social life is especially good — 
partly because of their isolation. Each town supplies 


its own recreation and has its clubs and other 
organizations. There is scarcely any of the religious 
or racial intolerance found in so many other places. 
This is one region where Roman Catholics and 
Protestants get along with complete co-operation. 
You see, then, that this is not a land to be shunned 
but one to be regarded as a source of employment 
and entertainment. It has much to offer, whether 
you live in the town or whether, like Paul Provencher, 
the great naturalist, you prefer to roam the forests 
and find delight in the cascading waterfalls dazzling 
in sunlight. I hope that many of you will have an 
opportunity of sailing down the St. Lawrence on one 
of the Saguenay steamers and visiting Quebec's 
northland, which Jacques Cartier called "the land 
that God gave Cain." 

Lynne Francis, VI A. 


It was early fall when I stepped back and sur- 
veyed my garden for the last time. The vivacious 
colours had faded into soft greys, greens and browns 
giving the garden a quiet, serene touch. The soil 
was a pale grey blending well with the crispy, turn- 
ing leaves, many of which had fallen from their 
stems to become part of the nourishing earth. 

Many of the flowers had turned to seeds — some 
very intriguing to gaze at. A milkweed that had 
not been attended to had spread its dainty para- 
chutes among the dried leaves as if to cheer them 
in their dying days. 

A few anxious and searching wild-bees still flew 
silently from one dead flower to another not realiz- 
ing how their precious time was wasted there among 
pollenless flowers. 

Even in the fall a flowerbed can be beautiful. The 
flowers seemed to change their coats like snakes. 
The foxgloves had turned a pinkish brown and 
left spots behind, and the thick rose bush in the 
corner of the garden bore yellow prickles instead 
of green. Scattered among all the flowers of the 
garden were petals from the rose-bush that had 
not blown away during the evening breezes. Then 
I turned my back and left behind me a delicate 
thing of beauty— a. fall garden. 

Kate Reed, V A. 



Junior Section 


This story I am going to tell you happened 
around the time of Christmas. It is in a hospital. 
Jane Scot is a small girl of seven. About one week 
before Christmas Jane was struck with polio. 

Jane had a favourite nurse called Miss Capin. 
Miss Capin was very understanding. It was ex- 
tremely exciting on Christmas Eve. There was a 
huge Christmas tree in the Children's Ward. Every- 
one in the hospital was happy. Jane was joyous. 
The nurses brought parcels of all sizes into the ward 
and laid them under the tree. The beds had col- 
oured quilts on them which made the ward gay. 

Just before they went to bed they had a tiny 
church service. Jane prayed for her parents and 
that she could be well and at home again for Christ- 
mas. She went to sleep with a wonderful Christmas 
spirit. Through the night a miracle took place. 
When Jane woke up her prayer had come true. She 
could walk. 

Judith Westwater, IV A. 


This year there are twenty-one girls in the cottage. 
Two, Lucy and Rosita Caridi are from South 
America. The other girls are Shireen Finch, Cathy 
Stewart, Bonnie Bernier, Josette Cochand, Susan 
Gibson, Marcia Pacaud, Margot Parker, Michele 
Robertson, Lorraine Ronalds, Judith Westwater, 
Diana Stewart, Victoria Rankin, Jennifer Patton, 
Julia Kingston, Wendy Watson, Charlotte Stevens, 
Janice Bj^ers, and Virginia Echols. 

On Hallowe'en the cottage went to a Hallowe'en 
Party at the big school. We all enjoyed ourselves 
very much. At the end of the Christmas Term the 
cottage Matrons, Mrs. Capon and Miss Syme, 
gave us a wonderful Christmas Party. We had a 
treasure hunt, lots of lovely food and stockings 
full of presents. In the Easter Term we went to an 
Ice Carnival which we were all very glad to see and 
in the same Term, some of us went skiing at Hill- 

Altogether we had a very pleasant year which 
wouldn't have been possible except for Mrs. Capon 
and Miss Syme. We would like to thank them for 
making our year in the cottage very enjoyable. 
Judith Westwater, IV A. 


The snow is very soft and white, 

It sparkles in its radiance bright, 

The snow falls on tree-tops and houses too. 

And makes them shine so far anew. 

How beautiful the snow is and shines in glorious 

The designs are always different, like patterns in 

our dreams. Jennifer Woods, V B. 


There are many wild flowers, — for example 
daisies, violets, dandelions and buttercups. Daisies 
and dandelions and buttercups are usually found in 
fields, and violets are found growing in moss. 

The two that I like best are the violets and the 
buttercups. The violet is very pretty because it has 
dainty petals which are purple and it is quite short. 
The buttercup is my second choice. It is a very 
tall flower with yellow petals, — the colour of butter. 
Both of them are very pretty. 

The reason why we don't appreciate these 
flowers is because we see them too often and they 
are sometimes a nuisance. 

Marcia Pacaud, IV A. 


Last summer I was promised a ride on a horse 
owned by a man I had never known or heard of 
before. The man's name was Mr. Ried. I was shy 
at first but he was so nice I quickly lost my shyness ; 
then we went down to the stable. 

The stable I used to go to was a public one and 
was dirty but when I walked into this one it was 
very clean. There were six stalls in all, three on each 
side. The stalls were large and very comfortable 
with the bars painted green. The whole place was 
painted white and the place between the stalls 
was cement. There were three horses. One was 
grey with some bluish spots on her quarters. Her 
name was Lady Grey. Another was a chestnut with 
dark eyes. Her name was Rocky. The other was a 
light chestnut. He was young, friendly and very 
high-spirited. This horse was my favourite and his 
name was Leaderfern. 

After we had looked at the horses we had to go 
home. I was sorry I had to go because I had enjoyed 
myself. But I looked forward to riding Leaderfern 
off and on the rest of the summer. 

Jennifer Patton, V B. 




We mounted our horses and were going across 
the fields, over river and valley, at a fast gallop and 
were about at our destination when we came in view 
of an old ruined cottage. Its roof was sagging and 
already could hardly be seen, the walls were cracked 
and crumbling, the paint was all worn off. The door 
had already fallen in and the windows had spider 
webs over the holes that once had held glass. 

We went inside, and the only thing holding the 
cottage up was a pole, half eaten by termites. I 
tried to imagine what it used to be like with child- 
ren running about, flowers blooming in their beds, 
green grass against the nicely painted wall, curtains 
in the windows and a fire in its fire-place giving it 
heat, and a lived-in look. 

Lorraine Ronalds, IV A. 


I lay there still upon a dark bower, 
Chills of wind were rushing through the air, 
And there was a magic fairy flower, 
And petals fell upon the earth, 
Then changed to snowflakes fair, 
And then again each snowflake changed 1o snow- 
drops everywhere. 

Jennifer Woods, V B. 


In Guatemala there are many volcanoes. Vol- 
canoes can be very beautiful sights but they can 
also be very destructive. 

Extinct volcanoes look like mountains except for 
the flat top. If you fly over one you see a great hole 
from which lava and rock once spurted. Down the 
sides of the volcanoes great gullies can be seen where 
the lava and rock once rolled, destroying every- 
thing in their path. A volcano in action can be 
very beautiful but can also be very dangerous. 
In the daytime all we can see are the clouds of 
grey smoke coming out, but at night you can see 
flames of fire. When a volcano is having an crui>- 
tion, lava and rock stream down the sides destroy- 
ing everything in their path and ashes fly all over 
the countryside covering everything. Often when 
these volcanoes are active, they cause earth- 
quakes which bring buildings down to the ground. 
At this time the air gets very hot and no breeze 

Volcanoes are lovely sights from a distance but 
I wouldn't like to be near one during an eruption. 

Ann Smith, V B. 


It was a Sunday morning and the children of the 
wind family had just finished breakfast. Father 
Wind came in and told them where to go. South 
Wind was to go to Ontario, West Wind to British 
Columbia and East Wind to the United States. 
Baby North Wind was very tiny so his parents said 
he had better stay in his own province. 

An hour later they all set out and separated. 
When North Wind reached Montreal he stopped 
and stared at the people going to church. The little 
North Wind decided to do some mischief. He roared 
and a huge storm blew up. The people's hats were 
blowing about in mid-air. What fun he was having! 
After that, he took a stroll down the St. Lawrence. 
As he was doing this he felt rain on his cheek. It 
was his brothers calling him to come home. Once 
at home they were each asked what they had done. 
None of it was too bad until Mother Wind got to 
the baby; she almost toppled over with surprise and 
the baby was sent to bed without supper. 

Margot Parker, IV A. 


Anse Pleureuse is a small village which is found 
on the Gaspe coast. It is situated on a small 
cove about four miles from Mont Louis which is a 
small village but still much larger than Anse 

There is a legend which led to the naming of 
Anse Pleureuse. This is it. Every night when it got 
dark all the inhabitants went to their houses or 
huts and stayed there until dawn came. When they 
were safely inside and the door was barred or locked 
and night began to fall there started a screeching 
and wailing or sometimes there was only a low 
mourning sound but it never failed, however loud 
or quiet, to haunt the inhabitants. They thought 
if was the mourning of a dead man's soul for all 
the sins he had done in his life. One day the priest 
got up courage and took an axe and shovel and 
walked into the woods. He came back the next 
day and told the people that he had scared the 
evil soul away. But in later years someone found 
out that it wasn't a ghost. It had been two old 
trees that had rubbed together when a light breeze 
blew. The priest had gone out and had cut down 
one of the trees. 

Bobby Starke, V B. 



&ina , a Hall, Compton, ©Id Girls' association 


Valerie Meyer to John Vandergrift Summerlin 
on January 28, 1956. 

Pauline Ann Lindsay to Keith Calvin Irvine on 
July 13, 1955. 

Christina Rhett Mac Keen to George Shaw on 
July 2, 1955. 

Elizabeth Dorland Abbott to Robert Metcalfe 
Schoettle on Nov. 5, 1955. 

Daintry Chisolm to John H. Snider on Sept. 17, 

Sandra Dorothy Wilson to Robert McGowan on 
July 18, 1955. 

Lois Keefler to Dr. Edward Kehoe in September 

Willa Benson to Norman Dalley on September 
12, 1955. 

Ann Henderson to Tom Woods in June 1955 
Jean Dodds to Ralph Kazi in August 1955. 

Betty Lou Van Buskirk to Rodney Holden in 
October 1955. 

Susan Teakle to Boyd Whittall on May 26, 1956. 

Anne Lucas to Anthony Suche. 


To Mr. and Mrs. J. D. Woodward (Ann Cornelius) 
a daughter, May 16, 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. M. Van Hengel (Drusilla 
Riley) a daughter, May 17, 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. James McDougall (Willa Birks) 
a daughter, November 7, 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Harold Price (Pamela Smith) 
a daughter, December 16, 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Grant Campbell (Priscilla 
Wanklyn) a daughter, February 1956. 

To Mr. and Mrs. A. Papadopoulos (Ann Hen- 
derson) twin daughters, May 1, 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Peter McKinnon (Joan Foster) 
a daughter, February 21, 1956. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Roderick Henry (Jill Foster) 
a daughter, October 12, 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Douglas Creighton (Willa Ogilvy) 
a son, June 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Barber (Linda 
Gordon) a daughter, December 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Fortier (Janet Fry) a 
daughter, June 26, 1955. 

To Mrs. and Mrs. Douglas Mackay (Ann Hodgins) 
a son, November 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Michael Drummond (Sally 
Sharwood) a daughter, August 12, 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Robert McCulloch (Judy 
Morton) a daughter, July 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Derek Martin (Jane Hartman) 
a daughter, January 1956. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Terence Flood (Lucinda 
Vaughn) a daughter, February 1956. 

To Mr. and Mrs. J. W. Williams (Amy Fowler) 
a daughter, February 1956. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Tyler Spafford (Ann Pangman) 
a daughter, December 10, 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Laird Bovard (Sheila Birks) 
a son, October 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Mostyn Lewis(Cynthia 
Hands) a son, March 15, 1956. 

To Mr. and Mrs. David M. Blaiklock (Sally 
Dobell) a son, March 26, 1956. 

To Mr. and Mrs. James Sinclair (Joan Donald) 
a daughter, June 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Alan Forbes (Jane Robb) a 
daughter, December 1955. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Hartland MacDougall (Eve 
Gordon) a daughter, April 4, 1956. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Tony Anable (Ann English) 
a daughter, Alice Emily, April 11, 1956. 

To Mr. and Mrs. P. F. Gaerkers (Barbara Ronalds) 
a son, March, 1956. 


Jean Lindsey to Rufus Titus. 

Jean Everett to Lt. (J. G.) Robert A. Purse, 


As we go to press word has been received that 
Cynthia Molson has been named a Durant Scholar 
and Susanne Chester a Wellesley College Scholar 
in their final year at Wellesley. Congratulations to 
both these Old Girls on their outstanding achieve- 

Matric '56 would like to thank Gael Eakin for 
her very skillful caricatures. 




Statement of Receipts and Disbursements 
for the year ended February 29, 1956 


Cash— February 28th, 1955 

Held by King's Hall, Inc $ 48.00 

In bank 515.90 $ 563.90 


Annual Membership fees $ 340.00 

Receipts— teas and luncheons 407.70 

Bank interest and exchange 8.39 

Bond interest 99 00 

Balance of Miss Gillard fund transferred . . . 170.82 1,025.91 


Accrued interest on bonds purchased ,$ 45.93 

Stationery, stamps and printing 117 01 

Teas and luncheons aqq pq 

Magazines— King's Hall Inc 132 50 

Travelling expenses [[[ gO.OO 

Laura .loll Prize .... « n nn 

Gift to Miss Gillard. . . "'"" 

a , KM). 50 

Sundry expense r r ce: „ nm 

56.65 $ 975.28 

Cash— February 29th, 1950 
Petty cash ' 

Held by King's Hall, Inc. . * ^f. 

In bank . . ZA) ' 

5 ^A7 614.53 



Subscriptions, less bank exchange 

h $ 928.32 

Disbursements - = 

Gifts to Miss Gillard— 

Canada Savings Bonds . . $600 00 
Jewellery . . ,„'„ 

Transferred to General Fund ' 57 - 50 

] '°-82 $ 928.32 

This is the statement referred to i„ (JUr ropoi , of ^ ^ 
Campbell, Glendinning and DeveRj 

Chartered Accountants,' 


Montreal, March 16th, 1956. 



ikfjool Btrectorp 

T. Abbott, "Baywinds," Devonshire, Bermuda. 

E. Angus, 699, Aberdeen Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 

P. Archibald Main Road, Hudson Heights, P.Q. 

E. Audet, 6, Veteran's Blvd., Megantic, P.Q. 

C. Bailey, 11, Newcourt Road, Bray Co., Wicklow. 

G. Bastian, 1780, Dumfries Rd., Town of Mt. Royal, P.Q. 

A. Beattie, 14, Richelieu Rd., Chambly Canton, P.Q. 

B. Bernier, Wendybrook Farms, Sweetsburg, P.Q. 
A. Bieler, 2151, Brulard, Sillery, P.Q. 

J. Bignell, Lake Beauport, P.Q. 

H. Black, 217, Stanstead Avenue, Town of Mt. Royal, P.Q. 

S. Blackburn, 32P>, Victoria Street, London, Ontario. 

S. Blaylock, Monk's Point, He Bizard, P.Q. 

S. Bogert, Georgeville Road, Magog, P.Q. 

J. Byers, 4040, Gage Road, Montreal, P.Q. 

L. Caridi, Calle 32 No. 43-74, Apartado Aereo 110, 

Barranquilla, S.A. 
R. Caridi, Calle 32 No. 43-74, Apartado Aereo 110, 

Barranquilla, S.A. 
S. Carling, 36, Grosvenor Street, London, Ontario. 
L. Carter, 4760, Upper Roslyn Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 
S. Cassels 482, Spadina Road, Toronto, Ontario. 

A. Cassils, 3065, Cedar Avenue, Montreal, P.Q. 

R. Christensen, 1509, Sherbrooke St. W., Montreal, P.Q. 

F. Church, 4, Summerhill Terrace, Montreal 25, P.Q. 

J. Cochand, Chalet Cochand, Ste. Marguerite Station, P.Q. 
J. Cordeau, 408, Metcalfe Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 
M. Cowie, 2, Maple Avenue, Beauprd, P.Q. 
J. Cashing, 610, Clark Avenue, Montreal 6, P.Q. 

B. Cuthbertson, 2285, Sunset Road, Town of Mt. Royal, P.Q. 

G. Davis, P.O. Box 131, Knowlton, P.Q. 

G. de Kuyper, 591, Argyle Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 
J. de Kuyper, 591, Argyle Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 
H. Dewar, 30, Dunn Street, Oakville, P.Q. 
L. Doucet, 48, Chesterfield Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 
J. Douglas Lane, 31, Cedar Avenue, Pointe Claire, P.Q. 

A. Dowie ,12574, Cedar Road, Cleveland Heights, Ohio. 

D. Duncanson, 241, Dunvegan Road, Toronto, Ontario 
G. Eakin, 635, Carlton Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 

S. Eakin, 736, Lexington Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 

E. Echols, 2125, Laird Blvd., Town of Mt. Royal, P.Q. 
V. Echols, 2125, Laird Blvd., Town of Mt. Royal, P.Q. 

B. Fellowes, 4854, Westmount Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 
S. Finch, 22, Second Street, Oakville, Ontario. 

R. FitzGerald ,2, Bowling Green, Pointe Claire, P.Q. 
D. Fowler, 36, Summit Circle, Westmount, P.Q. 
L. Francis, P.O. Box 28, Desbicns, P.Q. 

C. Gibbs 636, Dube Street, Thetford Mines, P.Q. 

D. Gibson, P.O. Box 242, San Salvador, El Salvador, 

Central America. 
S. Gibson, P.O. Box 242, San Salvador, El Salvador, 

Central America. 
N. Glass "Plantations," Lennoxville, P.Q. 
G. Goodeve, 1001, Moncreiff Road, Town of Mt. Royal, P.Q., 
J. Grier, 14, Crescent Road, Ottawa, Ontario. 
L. Grier, 14, Crescent Road, Ottawa, Ontario. 
J. Gruchy, Pownal, P.E.I. 
H. Hand, Pembroke, Bermuda. 

F. Harley, 580, Dundas Street, London, Ontario. 

C. Harvie, 45, John Street, Thornhill, Ontario. 

J. Hingston, 614, Victoria Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 
A. Holton, R.R. 1, Burlington, Ontario. 

D. Hornig, R.R. 1, Boulton Centre, P.Q. 

C. Hudson, 174, Bromley Avenue, Moncton, New Brunswick 

C. Hutchins, 3455, Stanley Street, Montreal, P.Q. 

A. Iddon, 1100, Park Avenue, New York 28, New York. 
M. Ignatieff, 22 Parco Pepoli, Rome, Italy. 

N. Jackman, 35, Rosedale Road, Toronto, Ontario. 

P. Jackson, 1381 Kenilworth Rd., Town of Mount Royal, P.Q. 

B. Keddie, 783, Upper Lansdowne Ave., Westmount, P.Q. 
S. Kelly, 5, Edmund Gate, Toronto, Ontario. 

L. Kennedy, 1509, Sherbrooke St. W., Montreal 25, P.Q. 
B. Kerr, 166, Wilson Street, Toronto, Ontario. 
S. Kilgour, 2, Ellis Street, Beauharnois, P.Q. 
J. Kingstone, 699, Acacia Avenue, Rockliffe Park, Ottawa, 


D. Lambert, 53, Thornton Avenue, Town of Mt. Royal, P.Q. 

J. Lamplough, 64, Stratford Road, Ilampstead, P.Q. 

C. Lyman, 3238, Cedar Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 

J. Macdonald, Scofieldtown Road, Stamford, Connecticut. 

D. MacDougall, 6035, Gouin Blvd., Saraguay, P.Q. 
H. MacDougall, 6080, Gouin Blvd,. Saraguay, P.Q. 
M. MacDougall, 6095, Gouin Blvd., Saraguay, P.Q. 

M. Maclntyre, 220, First Street East, Cornwall, Ontario. 

J. Martin, 799, Upper Belmont Ave., Westmount, P.Q. 

S. McMaster, 3141, Daulac Road, Montreal, P.Q. 

J. McColm, 2430, Noury Avenue, Sillery, P.Q. 

P. McFetrick, 91, Cedar Avenue, Pointe Claire, P.Q. 

S. Meagher, 2993, Cedar Ave., Westmount, P.Q. 

E. Menaschd, Apartado Aereo 4514, Bogota, Colombia, S.A. 
J. Millar, 948, Moncrieff Rd., Town of Mt. Royal, P.Q. 

J. Mitchell, Massawippi, P.Q. 

R. Moncel 241, Park Road, Ottawa, Ontario. 

B. Moore, 7, Hill Road, Grand Falls, Newfoundland. 

H. Morris, 125, First Street East, Cornwall, Ontario. 

S. Morris, 125, First Street East, Cornwall, Ontario. 

L. Murray, 35, St. Germain Street, Rimouski, P.Q. 

S. Myles42, Cressy Road, Ilampstead, P.Q. 

E. Napier, 316, Russell Hill Road, Toronto, Ontario. 

S. Newman. 3302, Cedar Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 

B. Oliphant, Hudson Heights, P.Q. 

J. Pacaud, Magog, P.Q. 

M. Pacaud, Magog, P.Q. 

M. Parker, 534, Cedar St., Beaurepaire, P.Q. 

J. Parsons, Pabodie Place, Little Compton , Rhode Island. 

P. Parsons, Pabodie Place, Little Compton, Rhode Island. 

J. Patton 4304, Montrose Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 

B. Penhale, 1661, Notre Dame Street, Thetford Mines, P.Q. 

J. Perron, Ste. Marguerite Station, P.Q. 

R. Peverley, St. Andrew's East, P.Q. 

J. Pinkerton, 1143, Grande Cote, Rosemere, P.Q. 

E. Price, 1231, Wolfesfield Ave. Sillery, P.Q. 

V. Rankin, 269, Lindsey Street, Drummondville, P.Q. 

K. Reed, 1620, Pine Avenue, Montreal, P.Q. 

B. Reeves, R.R. 1, Bath, Ontario. 

J. Robb, 32, Forden Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 

M. Robertson, 96 Pierrepont Street, Apt. 2, Brooklyn Heights, 

N.Y., U.S.A. 
S. Robertson, 96 Pierrepont Street, Apt. 2, Brooklyn Heights, 

N.Y., U.S.A. 
L. Ronalds, Chantecler Hills Estate, Ste. Adele, P.Q. 
B. Rooney, 482, Roslyn Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 
I. Schiess, 43 Av. Suny 4a Calle Pte., San Salvador, 

El Salvador, Central America. 
H. Schneider, 255, S. Van Pelt St., Philadelphia, Penn. 
S. Schneider, 255, S. Van Pelt St., Philadelphia, Penn. 
S. Scott, 53, St. Augustine Street, Breakeyville, P.Q. 
A. Sise, 475, Argyle Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 

A. Smith, Finca Panama, Gautalon, Gautemalo, Central 

E. Smith, 425, Maple Place, Ottawa, Ontario. 

B. Starke, Cap Chat, Co. Gaspe, P.Q. 

C. Stevens, 1082, Ste. Cecile St., Three Rivers, P.Q. 

C. Stewart, 164, Lakeshore Road, Pointe Claire, P.Q. 

D. Stewart, 164, Lakeshore Road, Pointe Claire, P.Q. 
S. Stewart, 1519, Pine Avenue, Montreal, P.Q. 

A. Taylor, 134, Dunvegan Road, Toronto, Ontario. 

J. Taylor, 24, Blvthdale Road, Toronto, Ontario. 

S. Taylor, 415, Mt. Pleasant Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 

M. J. Thompson, Parkside Drive, Bathurst, New Brunswick. 

P. Throsby, Lancaster, Ontario. 

S. Throsby, Lancaster, Ontario. 

H. Tooley, 4742, Upper Roslyn Avenue, Montreal, P.Q. 

M. Vaughan, 35, Donswood Drive, Toronto, Ontario. 

J. Vivian, 6151, Cote St. Luc Road, Montreal, P.Q. 

L. Wagner, 8611, Montgomery Ave., Philadelphia, Penn. 

V. Wagner, 8611, Montgomery Ave., Philadelphia, Penn. 

E. Wallace, Cardinal, Ontario'. 

S. Ward, Box 153, Brookfield Centre, Connecticut. 
M. Warren, 51, Markland Street, Hamilton, Ontario. 
W. Watson, 4920, Clanranald Avenue, Montreal, P.Q. 
J. Westwater, 4160, Kensington Avenue, Montreal, P.Q. 
W. Whitehead, 3011 Cedar Avenue, Westmount, P.Q. 
J. Woods, 3015, Sherbrooke St., Montreal, P.Q. 



g>tatf Btrectorp 

Miss A. E. Gillard, King's Hall, Compton, P.Q. 
Miss G. Ainslie, 3 Lochbridge Rd., North Berwick, 

Mile O. Cailteux, King's Hall, Compton, P.Q. 
Mis. F. C. Capon, Massawippi, P.Q. 
Miss M. Dexter, Milton, Queens Co., Nova Scotia. 
Miss C. Dostie, Scotstown, P.Q. 
Mrs. G. W. Elliott, Sawyerville, P.Q. 
Miss J. FitzGibbon, Wiekwar, Glos., England. 
Miss D. Hewson, King's Hall, Compton, P. (J. 
Miss H. Hughes, 614 Brunswick St., Fredericton, N 
Miss H. Jenkins, "Littlewood", Keppoch, P.E.I. 

Mme S. 


Miss G. 


Miss V. 

Miss A. 

Miss S. 

Miss F. 

Miss M 

Miss J. 

Miss M 

Miss D. 


Mrs. A. 

Mrs. E. 

Landes, King's Hall, Compton, P.Q. 

Keyzer, 329 Humphrey St.,S\vampscott, Mass., U.S.A. 

Keith, Havelock, N.B. 

Macdonald, Port Hastings, N.S. 

E. G. Macdonald, R.R. 2, Annapolis Royal, N.S. 

MacLennan, 3 Dalhousie St., Halifax, N.S. 
. Morris, Box 332, 5 Gibson Ave., Grimsby, Ont. 
S. Ramsay, 329 George St., Fredericton, N.B. 
. B. Syme, c/o Dr. Bogert, Magog, P.Q. 

E. Wallace, Warden, P.Q. 

Welter, c/o Mrs. G. Beaudin, North Hatiey, P.Q. 

H. Yarrill, Bishop's University, Lennoxville, P.Q. 


two Mew/ 



Ten delicious bite-sized pieces 

make Neilson's new ROLLS Canada's 

finest value . . . and finest quality 

too. Try these two new candy 

treats today . . . just 10^ each. 




A Message from 


To All High School 

What Retailing as a Career 
Offers You Today 

• Usual scope for advancement because of the relatively high 
number of supervisory and specialized jobs. 

• Variety of opportunity to express your talents and skills in 
selling, service, buying, managing. 

• Earnings which compare favourably with similar respon- 
sibilities in other businesses. 

• Specialized training on planned basis. (Inquire about our 
"Sales Training Groups.") 

• Valuable benefits including discount on purchases, group 
life insurance, pension plan, financial assistance with educa- 
tional courses at schools and colleges. 

• A progressive, well-established Company-the largest retail 
organization m the British Commonwealth. 

You are invited to contact our Personnel 
Manager or Employment Manager for an 
interview. PL 9211, Locals 630 or 584 





Ififs Tagged Viscose . . . 

it's Top Value! 



Viscose forms the core of so many 
familiar household items. All around you, 
in one form or another, Viscose is present — 
household furnishings and wearing 
apparel of all kinds. 
And, through television via the 
Disneyland program and in print media 
from coast to coast, thousands of Canadians 
are becoming aware of value-packed 
Viscose. People everywhere are saying 
"if it's Tagged Viscose 
it's Top Value!" 

\)lk m 



Hood Office and Plant: 

Sales Offices 

MONTREAL: 1420 Sherbrooke St. West, BE 4415 
TORONTO: 159 Bay Street, EM 4-0291 

Compliments of 

Garage Montplaisir 




269 Lindsay st. 



Telephone 2-3388 

Lilette IMPORTS 

Lil Bald - Ethel Rubin 

Imported Fashion Creations 


1541 Crescent Street 

Montreal, Quebec 

BElair 9815 

Geo. W. Pacaud 


C. E. Pacaud, Mg. 






MacDougdll & MacDouga 





H. C. MacDougall V. A. B. Ledain 

N. L. C. Mather P. B. Reid 

Private wires to 


Aldred Bldg.— 507 Place d'Armes MA 5621 


C i 


and DRY CLEANERS ltd. 



The National Protection 
Assurance Co. 





Montreal Service Through 


710 Victoria Square 

Tel. UN 1-1581 Res. Pte.-Claire 6936 

Paul L.Gordon, B.A.,B.C 







Newton Construction Company Limited 

508 Victoria Street 






139 Frontenac Street Sherbrooke, Que. 

Compliments of 


Chartered Accountants 
Moncton, N.B. 

Lunham & Moore Shipping Limited 



455 Craig St. West 





Redpath Realties 



PL 1104 

s*let C^CH^vih 

iliilllllS:r'":£:i : ii:';:i: 




Swimming Pool and Beach - Water Skiing 

Tennis - Riding - Golf 

Supervised Children's Play Ground 


RATE $8.50 TO $13.50 






Dost thou love life: 
Then do not squander time, 
for that is the stuff life 
is made of. 

Benjamin Franklin 

Poor Richard's Almanack 

The life of Benjamin Franklin illus- 
trates the truth of his own words, 
for though this marks the 250th 
anniversary of his birth, Franklin's 
remarkable achievements continue 
to influence the daily lives of many 
Canadians. He was responsible for 
the establishment of The Montreal 
Gazette in 1778, thereby creating a 
tradition that still lives as part of 
the very fabric of its community 
and country. 

%he Snuctte 


Canada's Best Newspaper 

The Gazette awards the, annual 

High School All-Star Football 

and Hockey Trophies 

C. E. Dawson 

D. B. Harvie 


Service Agencies Limited 



Room 1303, York Street 
Telephones EM 6-3581-2-3 

Compliments of 



Lyman Tube & Bearings Ltd. 



S. H. Francis 



Compliments of a Frienc 





Compliments of 

Vogue Shoe Salon 

High Grade Footwear for the entire family 

51 Main St. W. 

Magog, P.Q. 

Wesley W. I. Nichol 

Howard H. Nichol 

JohnNichol&Sons,Reg'd ^p 


Wholesale and Retail 


Telephone LOrraine 2-1531 

Lennoxville, Que. 

Compliments of 

Stafford Foods Ltd. 

L e a d r r s i n F i n c F o o d s 

Toronto, Canada 





Breakeyville, Co. Levis / P. Q. 

A watch from Birks is the smart gift 

on graduation day. It's slender beauty 
will be appreciated for years to come. A wide 
range of styles and prices available. 

A. Riileau 17-jewel 
movement, Hkt. yell 
gold case, 50.00 

B. Challenper 17-jewel 


movement, lOkt. yellow 
gold-Blled case, 100.00 



Compliments of 



LO 2-8555 



Barranquilla, Col. 
S. A. 



P. Q. 

Compliments of 

Glendale Spinning Mills 


Hamilton, Ont 

Compliments of 

Chez Jeanne 

295-297 Main Street 






SUITS and 

174 Wellington North Sherbrooke 

Compliments of 



P i g ■ D 

Sherbrooke, P.Q. 

Compliments of 

Wiggett's Shoe Store 


since 1886 

Telephone LO 7-G545 

194 Wellington Street North 
Sherbrooke, Que. 


Charles E. Napier Company Limited 


35 Marlborough Avenue 



93rd YEAR 



Frigidaires, Automatic Washers 
and Electric Ranges 

General Electric Refrigerators 
Ranges and Washers 









Heintzman and Wilson Pianos 

Music and 

Musical Instruments 



Telephone LO 2-2627 

61 - 67 Wellington St. North Sherbrooke, Que. 

*Skinner & c tladeau SVtc 

82 Nord, rue Wellington St. North 

Compliments of 



's St 




Compliments of 

Montreal Book Room 





Morgan's century-old tree is now 
putting forth new, young branches . . 
a spreading family tree serving 
growing Canadian populations. 




You Are Sure of Quality a> Morgans - Coll PI. 6261 



Telephone LO 2-1422 

70 Albert Street Sherbrooke, Que. 


C. Budning and H. Budning, Proprietors 

Telephone LO 2-4773 

25 Wellington Street North 
Sherbrooke, Que. 




1645 St. Catherine Street West 

Wllbank 1127 


Compliments of 

The Gift Shop 

Gifts from the four 

corners or the wor 




307 Lakeshore Road 

Telephone 3097 

Point e Claire, P.Q 

John Milford & Son Reg'd 


Members of the 
Florists' Telegraph Delivery Association 

Telephone LO 2-3757 
143 Frontenac St. Sherbrooke, Que. 

Compliments of 



Cockburn & Archer 




J. B. M. St. Laurent Fils, Enrg. 









. 49w 


ton, Que. 


Donnacona Paper Company 



Compliments of 


Telephone LO 2-0385 

16 Wellington N. Sherbrooke, Que. 

Compliments of 


Congratulations and Best Wishes 

to the 

Graduates of 1956 

From the parents of a graduate 

Compliments of 




Compliments of 

J. Philip Dumaresq & Associates 

Architects, Engineers 
& Planners 


77, Upper Water Street, 




Head Office for Canada 

When you re extra busy... 


So often your busy day is just the day you want to 
deposit a cheque. Never mind — you can mail a deposit 
to The Canadian Bank of Commerce. It only takes a 
minute or so and it saves you making a special trip . . . 
avoids parking worries, too. You can even mail your 
savings account passbook in to The Canadian Bank of 
Commerce whenever you want it brought up to date. 
For current accounts you can have a monthly statement 
mailed to you. Ask for convenient special form for 
deposit by mail at your nearest branch. Anyone at our 
more than 680 branches will be glad to help you. 


PcUfe-Sanablen, Pkintina 




Printers * Stationers 


Paper Box Makers 


Corn p I intents 

Wolfesfield Kenne 




Coin p lim en I s 






Spalding Golf Clubs 

Bentley Tennis Raquets 

Evenruide Outboard Motors 


McClary Stoves 

Kelvinator Refrigerators 
Sunbeam Toasters 


Wedgewood China 

Royal Doulton Figurines 
Johnson Brothers 


MafiduMM -&l^dsuw/ ' ApplumceA- 





W£LlinGTOn n. - SH£«8ROOK€ ,que 



What precisely is meant by that familiar # 

phrase Freedom of the Press'? # 

FUNDAMENTALLY it is not a special privilege re- 
■1 served for newspaper i)iiblishers and those responsible 
for the dissemination of news through the media of 
radio and television. It is rather a phase of a much larger 
freedom — the freedom of all men to speak their minds 
openly and without fear. The press — and this term may 
be modernized to apply to radio and television — claims 
no right which should not belong to each citizen in a 
democracy, but freedom of the press is an all-important 
part of this freedom; because, under modern conditions, 
the press is the principal agency by which the ordinary 
man receives the information he needs to judge the 
actions of his rulers and make up his mind on public 
issues. Without newspapers, radio and television, or 
with only gagged and blindfolded ones, he is in the 
dark, and helpless. An unfettered press is therefore one 
of the essential bulwarks of a democratic world. 

All liberty, of course, involves obligations. The 
obligation of a free press is to be truly free. It must be 
thorough, accurate and unbiased in its reporting, 
sincere and thoughtful in its editorial comments, and 
resistant to all outside pressure. It must be both cau- 
tious and bold — cautious until it knows all the facts, 
bold when it is sure of its ground. It must, above all, be 
inspired by devotion to the public welfare as its staff 
understands it. 

Then it is worthy of the privileges which the English- 
speaking peoples have traditionally granted to their 
press. Then it is also the best guardian of the liberties 
of the people. 



Newspaper Division: Electronics Division: 





Bank of Montreal 


Compliments of 

Auberge Hillcrest 


Tear-round c R^sort 




Telephone: Sherbrooke LOrraine 9-0180 

Compliments of 









1484 Sherbrooke St. Wesi 


Montreal, P.Q. 

Tel. WIlbank 7173 


Alphonse Racine 






2327 Bord du Lac He Bizard, 



Home, Office or Study 



F oun d e d i n 19 02 

Compliments of 


a worthy objective 
makes saving effective 

Today is a good time to start your Savings Account 


J. D. Martin 

C. A. Bignell, 


H. B. Bignell & Son Limited 


Telephones : 
2-4080 2-4087